Peace Over Troubled Waters
by resourceful
Summary: When Amanda volunteers to work at a children's peace camp, she soons finds her family life, the Agency elite, and an international incident all coming together in a perfect storm.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Peace Over Troubled Waters

Author: Resourceful

Time Line: In between Second and Third Season episodes - June 1985

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King is the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. I will make no money from my story and no copyright infringement is intended.

Credits: References at are made to the episode "Spiderweb".

Summary: Time away from the Agency allows Amanda to step back and evaluate her growing attraction to Lee. When she volunteers at a children's peace camp, she soon finds her family life, the Agency elite, and an international incident all coming together like a perfect storm.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta for her excellent help. The Peace Camp story was originally posted at another site. Camp Harmony is made-up. It resembles a combination of camps and beaches I've visited along the east coast.

* * *

><p>Chapter One:<p>

A familiar queasiness fluttered in Amanda's stomach as she drove her Mercury station wagon through the open wrought iron gate at the entrance to Camp Harmony. "Butterflies" - that's what her mother always called the nervous excitement that preceded any big event.

She had the same sensation when she first saw the camp, twenty-five years ago. Only nine years old, she'd blinked back tears as Mother and Daddy bravely waved good-bye, leaving her behind for a full week of camping adventure. The pang of homesickness had lasted until the first blazing campfire beneath a star-studded sky. Once she'd savored the taste of toasted marshmallows and chocolate bars sandwiched between two crisp Graham Crackers, she'd been hooked on camp life forever.

The childhood experience left an indelible mark upon her life: friendships were formed, outdoor skills were advanced, and solid values were engrained in her psyche.

To her amazement, Camp Harmony had changed very little over the course of many years. An abundance of wild flowers still bordered tranquil nature trails. Emerald green water still lapped against the swimming and boating docks. The wide expanse of manicured lawn still sported baseball diamonds and volleyball courts.

Nestled beneath tall pines, the rustic camp had stood sentry for decades along the western shoreline of Maryland's Chesapeake Bay. Despite the onslaught of blistering summer sun and howling winter storms, the sturdy log cabins and rugged lodge had survived the test of time. Built to last, Camp Harmony had a distinguished history of service, spanning three generations.

Now it was Amanda's turn to serve. She was one of many volunteers summoned early to prepare for the week-long peace camp. As a PTA and Junior Trailblazers mom, she was recruited to lead craft projects for children from Northern Ireland - a group of youngsters schooled by civil strife. A number of American children, including Phillip and Jamie, were also invited to share in the peace lessons. The goals of the camp were to teach non-violent resolution skills and to encourage friendship among children whose lives were defined by "The Troubles."

Amanda shook her head at the trite terminology. It was a grave understatement to call years of bitterness and violence "The Troubles." The conflict between the predominately Protestant Unionists and the predominantly Catholic Nationalists had gone on for decades. While the Unionists fought to remain a part of the United Kingdom, the Nationalists fought to be politically reunited with the rest of Ireland. Caught in the middle were the children, who bore the emotional and physical scars of terrorism.

Idealistic by nature, Amanda was realistic about the hopeful peacemaking agenda. The summer staff and volunteers faced a daunting task. A few days of peace lessons could only mark a positive beginning for boys and girls raised in the shadows of hatred and fear in Northern Ireland.

No wonder she felt nervous. While a noble cause, the peace camp would certainly be tested by difficulties she could only begin to imagine.

Pulling into the parking lot, Amanda read the official camp logo on the welcome sign. "Memories Made at Camp Harmony Will Last a Lifetime." How true, she agreed, at the same time praying the peace camp events of the coming week would be worthy of remembrance.

* * *

><p>SMK-SMK<p>

"Let's call it a night," the camp director said as the staff and volunteers finished up their evening meal. "Rain is moving in, so I suggest we disperse to our cabins for a good night's sleep. Everyone worked hard today. Thanks for job well done."

"Good night," Amanda called to her co-workers as she left the dining hall and made her way to the cabin. It had been a long day of sorting, scrubbing, and organizing the craft cabin. Now her body craved sleep.

Like her female counterparts, Amanda prepared for bed, pulling on a warm sweat suit to fight off the biting chill. With a weary sigh, she hunkered down on her cot, hoping sleep would come quickly. Her busy mind had other ideas. Thoughts of home and work competed for her attention.

One by one, the others drifted off to sleep, lulled into slumber by the steady patter of rain on the roof. Nevertheless, she remained wide-eyed, conscious of the dampness that seeped into her clothing and bedding. Finally, she arose and tiptoed to the living room.

From the front window, Amanda watched a heavy mist roll in from the bay, slowly engulfing the waterfront in a dense fog. Still too keyed up for sleep, she grabbed a blanket and went outside to enjoy the night sounds. Maybe nature's symphony would provide a soothing backdrop for her conflicting thoughts.

She settled into an Adirondack chair on the cabin's wraparound porch. Drawing up her knees, she snuggled under the old Army blanket, a relic from her father's war years. With a weary sigh, she listened for the natural wonders all around her. Water lapped along the shoreline where the West River met the Chesapeake Bay. Frogs croaked in the marsh, and crickets whispered from the woodlands. The combined chorus was the best medicine for whatever ailed her sagging spirit.

Amanda needed the time alone to think. While enthusiastic about the camp, her mind was plagued with self-doubt, entirely unrelated to the week's activities. She'd reached a crossroads in her life. The time away from the Agency offered a rare opportunity to gain a fresh perspective on what she wanted for her future.

The demands of home and family were on a collision course with work and colleagues - particularly one colleague. The line between her separate lives was blurring, and she needed to navigate carefully around unexpected detours. Amanda's natural instincts were alerting her to dangers ahead. She wanted to proceed with caution, protecting all of those who were near and dear to her life.

Her relationship with Lee Stetson was changing in subtle ways, that she could no longer ignore. While he would never admit it, she clearly recognized that they were growing closer. Where once he frowned on working with her, he now seemed pleased when they were partnered together. Where once they bickered like squabbling siblings, they now laughed and joked like best pals. Where once they kept an uneasy physical distance, they now were quick to share a warm embrace. For good or for ill, she felt attracted to him, and, at times, Lee seemed similarly interested in her.

Maybe the physical attraction had been there from the start, but it hadn't mattered when they'd scarcely tolerated working together. How times had change. Over the last two years, they'd developed a solid friendship, a dynamic work relationship, and, in her opinion, a deep emotional intimacy as well. Words were unnecessary between them. They could communicate with an affectionate smile, a searing look, or a gentle touch. Each day with Lee was a precious gift, but a gift that came with significant complications. He was, after all, a top secret agent. He was not the kind of man she could take home to meet Mother and the boys.

Given her burgeoning feelings, there may come a point when she would need to put on the brakes or even part company. If she continued to grow closer to Lee, she could end up putting her job, her family, and her heart at risk.

Focusing on the here and now, she examined the present reality of their opposing lifestyles. Lee spent his down time with glamorous women in fancy nightclubs. She went home to her mother and children in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Lee was raised by a strict uncle. She was nurtured in a doting family. Lee was a confirmed bachelor. She loved parenting two active boys. Lee had staked his reputation on casual romance without commitment. She stood firmly on the side of love and marriage. Maybe opposites did attract, but that didn't make them compatible.

The enigma of Lee Stetson had become more confusing over the last several months. Whether she dangled from a lifeboat boom or from the edge of a city hi-rise, he was her knight in shining armor. Whether she hallucinated about a Casablanca love affair or enjoyed a "cover" kiss on a honeymoon cruise, he took her breath away. Her old fantasies about dashing spies had been lived out in stark reality dozens of times, but they didn't begin to define the attraction.

While the rest of world saw the professional game face he'd honed to perfection, she saw unguarded moments of sensitivity and loneliness. Slowly but surely, the secret compartments of a closed life were opening for her alone to see. The vulnerable man behind the confident agent was what really tugged at her heart.

When Lee saved Amanda, instead of the phony look-alike, from falling off the city high-rise, his fervent embrace spoke of his own need as well as hers. Whatever comfort he gave, he also received as they desperately clung to each other.

When she reluctantly resigned from the Agency to take a better paying job with Byron Jordon, she saw the deep hurt in Lee's hazel eyes. Days later, when she returned to her role in the intelligence community, she saw joy sparkle in his expressive eyes. The unspoken message was clear in her mind - Lee Stetson needed Amanda King. How she could go about meeting that need was the million dollar question.

The conundrum tormented her for weeks, until finally she decided to take a step back and evaluate where things stood. Combining two weeks of vacation with a week of unpaid leave, Mr. Melrose granted her three weeks off. Her stated goal was to enjoy more hands-on family time and to participate in a peace camp with her mother and boys. Maybe, she surmised, some time away from the object of her affection would help her see their situation more clearly.

Lee had been unhappy with her plan, especially when she'd mentioned volunteering at a peace camp. He'd grumbled right up until she left in early June, but in the end he'd given her a hug and told her to enjoy her time-off. The moment of parting had given her pause. There'd been something unsettling in his goodbye. Just little things had stood out: the tight embrace, the catch in his voice, the confusion in his eyes. By all appearances, he didn't trust her to come back.

Still seated on the dark porch, Amanda's introspection was interrupted by the sound of voices. Apparently staff members were out for a stroll on the winding pathway. Draped in hooded slickers and shrouded by the thick haze, the walkers passed within thirty feet of her perch. Their conversation was muffled, but intense.

Amanda was about to call out a greeting when she thought better of it. Something from her Agency training told her to stay in the shadows and pay attention.

"So, the plan be in place?" an unidentifiable male inquired.

"Yes, the explosives are hidden on the campgrounds," replied a high pitched voice.

"And they be dry?"

"They're high and dry in a cabin storage closet - in the secret compartment."

"Good. I be making me political statement for me Da, and the peace camp be suffering a glaring blow to the lovely painted lady."

"And nobody will be killed?"

"Right. It be fair play, I be thinking. There be a bit of a scare, and everyone be going home a little sadder but wiser."

Amanda sucked in her breath, barely containing the "oh my gosh" that stuck in her throat. Keeping perfectly still, she bit her lip, waiting patiently while the voices faded, and the twosome moved out of range.

For a long moment, she carefully considered the conversation. People were planning to disrupt the camp's peace program. Even worse, there may be an explosion. Certainly someone needed to be told.

A typical volunteer might report the conversation to the camp director or the local police, but she had a better alternative. Two years in the intelligence community had opened her eyes to the international threat of terrorism. The imminent danger of explosives was justification enough to notify the Agency. She needed to call Lee Stetson, and she needed to do it now.

Nervous energy propelled her into action. Amanda hurried into the cabin, grabbed her purse and dashed to the camp parking lot, careful to keep a wary eye out for any observers. As soon as the station wagon roared to life, she headed for the West River Mini-Mart in search of a pay phone. It didn't seem prudent to call from the camp office. There was no use tipping her hand. Lee would know what to do.

* * *

><p>SMK-SMK<p>

To her great relief, Amanda spied a phone booth as she pulled into the empty lot. While not the Agency, the CIA, or the FBI, the little grocery was definitely a safe harbor in dire circumstances. Biting her lip, she darted into the downpour, wishing she'd bothered to bring her rain poncho instead of her light-weight jacket.

Gosh, she hoped she had the right change. Precious time was wasted as she fumbled through her wallet and the bottom of her purse, pulling out five pennies, two paper clips, and a safety pin. Finally she hit the jackpot when she searched the deep pockets of her coat. With the coins handy, she punched in the familiar numbers.

By the fourth ring, she realized Lee must be out on a case. Certainly her vacation didn't excuse him from working. He probably had his hands full with an all night assignment.

She was about to abandon the call when someone picked up. At first there was nothing, but then ragged breathing came over the line, followed by a gravely voice. "Stetson here."

"Ah," Amanda started and stopped. Before she could form a coherent sentence, she heard a giggle from the background.

"Shush," Lee cautioned in a muffled voice, his hand apparently covering the mouth piece.

Amanda hung her head. Hang up, she told herself. Lee's not alone.

"Who the hell is this?" he asked, his harsh tone bludgeoning every word.

Good Lord, she had to say something. "Oh my gosh, Lee."

"Amanda?"

"I guess this is a bad time, huh?"

"Ah, no," he began, but then paused. "Well, yeah." There was another moment of silence, followed by a sigh. "Amanda, it's almost midnight."

"Oh, well," she stammered, "I'm sorry to interrupt you. . . . I mean, you must be occupied with something or other."

"Look, it's okay." His voice was calmer now, and he seemed to be getting out of bed. The rustle of clothing and movement across the room provided ample visualization of his activities.

Closing her eyes, as if that would blot out the images, Amanda pressed on. "Lee, I shouldn't have called you. You're obviously indisposed. And, of course, what you do on your downtime is none of my business. You have a personal life after all, and maybe I should let you go. . . ."

"Amanda, stop," he said, cutting off her nervous ramble. "What do you need? Are you in trouble?"

She wished she could dig a hole and crawl in it. "Lee, it's about camp."

"Camp?" Now he sounded angry again. "You're calling me about camp?"

"Lee, sugar," an impatient female voice whined from the background. "When are you coming back to bed?"

Amanda made a split second decision. "Listen, I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said in a rush to get off the phone. "I have a concern about the peace camp, but I'll deal with it. Goodbye."

"Amanda!"

She heard him desperately call her name, just before she slammed down the receiver with a damning bang.

"So much for you, Buster," Amanda announced to the rain. She was mortified that her phone call had interrupted one of his assignations. All her worries over their growing involvement seemed ridiculous when measured against the reality of his engrained lifestyle. Obviously Lee hadn't missed her anywhere near as much as she'd missed him.

"Get real, Amanda," she chastised herself. Stomping through the puddles in her canvas sneakers, she saw the folly in her obsessive rumination over Lee. At this point, the chasm between their life choices seemed wider than ever. They could remain friends and colleagues, but that would have to be the limit to their relationship. If she wanted more, she'd better look elsewhere.

* * *

><p>To be continued:<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

The door slammed shut with a loud bang. "Good riddance," Lee mumbled as his date stormed out of the apartment. With her clothes askew, she was barely put back together when she fled the premises. To say that she was angry would be putting it mildly.

Amanda's untimely phone call had extinguished the flames of passion more effectively than a bucket of cold water. There'd been no way to reignite the spark after the interruption dampened his mood.

The episode had initiated enough stress to propel him into harried pacing, back and forth across his bedroom. Like many times in the past two years, a nervous Amanda ramble had raised his anxiety level faster than a four alarm fire.

The call had also triggered the ire of his "flame de jour." When she'd realized his focus had shifted, and no amount of pouting could reclaim his attention, she hadn't minced words in making her sentiments perfectly clear. Once her fury was spent, she'd beat a hasty retreat from his apartment and his life.

Finally alone, Lee sorted through the blankets and sheets, trying to bring order back to his bedroom. Spotting a pink silk robe on the floor, he winced as he inspected the spoils of the evening. The monogram, "Crystal" was neatly embroidered on the front. Balling up the garment, he tossed it into his closet. In all likelihood, she'd never return to reclaim it.

Sitting heavily on the bed, he propped his elbows on his widespread knees and held his head in his hands. How did things get so complicated? Amanda's innocent intrusion had done more than send a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. It had forced him to swallow a bitter dose of shame.

More and more of late, her high standards of morality had weighed on his conscience. Trysts he normally enjoyed, without a second thought, were now a source of embarrassment to him, especially when Amanda encountered a Randi or Crystal "baby" at his apartment. Like it or not, his colleague's sense of propriety was causing him to take an in-depth look at his lifestyle.

Running his long fingers through his hair, he bore the pain of self-flagellation like a reluctant martyr. Why did he obsess about this anyway? So what if Amanda King was privy to his sex life. Big deal. She'd been around the water cooler enough to know his dating history and some of the colorful details. Maybe so, but in the grip of passion, just hearing her voice made him feel like he was cheating on his best girl. Good Lord, they didn't even date, but he still managed to wallow in guilt.

It wasn't just Amanda's straight-as-an-arrow values that pricked his conscience. Her very presence in his life challenged his whole concept of attractiveness. The usual allure of young, sultry, buxom blondes was losing much of the appeal. He was beginning to prefer attributes like classic beauty, intelligence, maturity, loyalty and caring - all the things he saw in a certain brunette. His sweet, perky colleague would probably never guess that she was influencing his taste in women. There was only one serious problem; the Amanda types were one in a million. He'd need to change his haunts and habits if he wanted to find anyone who could hold a candle to Scarecrow's beautiful, brave, and indomitable Mrs. King.

The dilemma went even deeper than his dating conduct. It scared him to face the truth, but Amanda's absence had stirred up an old ache. In a word, he felt abandoned. Her vacation had created a sizable hole in his life that couldn't be filled by nightclubs and one night stands.

He'd already endured two weeks of misery. While Amanda was off chaperoning end-of-school trips to "King's Dominion" and Gettysburg, car-pooling kids to little league games, and volunteering at a peace camp, he found himself at loose ends. For some odd reason, he was jealous. Shouldn't Amanda realize that when she was missing from his life, he had no peace of mind at all?

Maybe he should get dressed and head for Arlington. After all, Amanda wasn't in the habit of calling at midnight. If she needed to talk to him, then there had to be a damn good reason. If it became necessary to throw stones at her bedroom window or climb up her trellis, so be it. Something was going on, and he had a need to know.

The ringing of the phone pulled him from his thoughts. God, he hoped it was Amanda calling back.

"Stetson," he said, with as much calm as he could muster.

"Scarecrow."

"Billy?" Lee blew out a long breath, wondering who else would blindside him tonight.

"What's going on? I just got a call from Amanda about a possible terrorist threat. What do you know about this?"

"Terrorist threat?" Lee was stunned by the revelation. "Amanda didn't say anything about a terrorist or a threat."

"So, apparently she did call you tonight. When I asked her if she'd contacted you, she hemmed and hawed about you being unavailable."

Lee cleared his throat. "Well, yes, I did hear from Amanda, but I had company when she called." In exasperation, he raked his fingers through his hair. Hell, why did everyone have to know his personal business?

Melrose sighed heavily. "I get the picture, Scarecrow."

"Look, I'm about to head over to her house."

"Forget it," Billy said, sounding grumpier with each passing second. "She's not there. Didn't Amanda tell you that she's at Camp Harmony?"

"No! I thought the camp was due to start on Sunday."

"Stetson," Billy snapped, in his best authoritarian tone. "Amanda called from a pay phone, somewhere near the Chesapeake Bay."

"My God, a pay phone! I had no idea." Lee gritted his teeth, berating himself for his lapse in judgment.

"Scarecrow, the Agency pays you handsomely to ask questions when there's trouble."

"Well, I'm not a mind reader," Lee said defensively. "Amanda went into one of her rambles, and I couldn't figure out what she wanted."

"It takes patience, Lee, and, apparently, that's something in short supply for you tonight. Listen, Scarecrow, just head for the office, ASAP. I'll fill you in when you arrive." Without so much as a goodbye, Billy hung up.

Lee looked at the silent phone for a beat, wondering how his well deserved day-off ended up in the dumpster. Leave it to Amanda to stumble onto a possible terrorist plot at a children's peace camp.

* * *

><p>The Agency seemed almost deserted as a tired and dazed Lee Stetson exited the elevator at one o'clock in the morning. Walking through the double doors to the bullpen, he was surprised to discover Francine all decked out in a sleek black evening gown. By the look on her face, she was none too happy.<p>

"What's with you?" he asked. "Did your date stand you up?"

"No, but someone's protégé seems to have started an Agency flap over 'Camp Minnie Ha Ha', or whatever they named that kiddies' haven." Francine's eyes narrowed as she scanned his disheveled appearance. "So, you've been on the prowl again, I see."

"Don't start, Francine." He ran his hand over his rumpled Oxford button-down, annoyed to realize that, in his haste, he'd put back on the shirt with lipstick stains. He must reek of perfume, too. Shrugging off the accusatory look of his counterpart, he threw the spotlight back on her. "I take it Billy yanked you out of a stellar affair."

"Right out of Senator Hovatter's formal dinner party," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Our fearless leader seems to think rubbing shoulders with senior level politicians is less important than an Amanda King premonition."

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean." Pointing to the Agency chief's inner sanctum, Lee started moving toward the office. "Shouldn't we get in there?"

Francine didn't budge. "Sure, when he roars. At the moment, he's on the phone with the big boys."

Right on cue, Billy stuck his head into the bullpen and motioned to them. Holding the door as they proceeded him into the office, Melrose's dark eyes darted from one to the other. "Well, you two are dressed in stark contrast."

"You got that right," Francine quipped. "One of us looks 'dressed to kill', and the other one looks like 'road kill'."

"Thanks a lot." Lee glared at his colleague before dropping his tall frame onto the sofa. Then he quickly checked to see if he'd buttoned his shirt correctly.

Francine took the chair closest to Billy. "So, what's the story?" she asked, cutting to the chase in her no nonsense tone.

Melrose lowered himself to his desk chair, folding his hands in front of him. "Francine, I don't know if you're aware that Amanda is volunteering at a week-long camping program for children from Northern Ireland."

The blonde rolled her eyes with disdain. "I did hear she'd be sailing her sunfish at summer camp or whatever one does with little urchins on the Chesapeake Bay."

Billy squared his shoulders, obviously wishing he was home in bed. "Mrs. King is doing a peace event at Camp Harmony, and it appears she may have uncovered a dangerous plot."

"What is it with Amanda King?" Francine shook her head and laughed. "As I recall, her last venture into community service pitted 'The Mothers for a Safe Environment' against nerve gas. The woman is a threat to the volunteers of America."

Lee failed to see the humor. "What kind of a threat are we talking about?" he asked, drumming his fingers against the arm of the sofa.

Melrose leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Someone may be planning an explosion at the camp."

"An explosion!" Lee jumped to his feet, his hands flexing nervously at his sides.

Billy signaled for calm. "Scarecrow, stop worrying. She's fine."

Lee silently berated himself for missing important details of Amanda's itinerary. "How did she get mixed up with the threat? The camp isn't going to start until Sunday."

"Well, our Amanda went in several days ahead of the actual event to help get the craft cabin ready for the campers."

"No surprise there," Francine said with a grin. "Nobody loves spring cleaning more than the little Arlington housewife."

"Desmond, please," Melrose warned as he mopped his brow with his handkerchief. "It seems our industrious Mrs. King overheard a conversation about the use of explosives as a way of making a political statement. She said, and I quote, 'the camp will suffer a blow to the lovely painted lady'."

"What the hell is a painted lady?" Lee asked, wishing he'd wake up soon and find the whole conversation fading away like a bad dream. "The term sounds like a reference to a saloon dance hall girl in the old west."

Francine chortled with obvious amusement. "Don't tell me the camp has hired a staff of barroom floozies."

"Can it, Francine," Billy said with waning tolerance.

She raised her hands in submission. "Okay, we're talking about the great outdoors. Butterflies are often called painted ladies. Maybe a butterfly habitat is the target."

"Well, whatever it is, Amanda said no lives were being threatened. Even so, the whole idea of an explosion around children is more than a little disconcerting."

Lee braced his arms on the desktop, looking straight at his boss. "So, did Amanda identify the people?"

"I'm afraid not. Due to the rain and fog, she didn't get a good look at them, but she did hear two people in an intense discussion near her cabin."

Francine waved a dismissive hand. "Why didn't she just notify camp security? Maybe some college kid was making idle threats to a friend."

"Unfortunately there's no camp security," Melrose said, trying, without success, to stifle a big yawn. "Camp Harmony operates with a few 'no trespassing' posters and a parking lot sign that reads 'all visitors report to the camp office'."

Lee gritted his teeth with barely controlled frustration. "Maybe they should pull the plug on the camp."

Billy shook his head, a frown furrowing his brow. "It's not that simple. The President sees the camp as a goodwill gesture and a healthy exercise in peacemaking. That's why Northern Ireland children from both sides are being brought together with American campers. No one wants the younger generation to grow up to be terrorists."

Lee was unconvinced. "Well, I think the operative words here are 'grow up.' Why put the children at risk?"

"Scarecrow, we don't have enough intelligence yet to know who's behind the plot and what exactly is in the works. If we move to cancel the camp before it starts, we'll be none the wiser."

"Well, then," Lee said impatiently, "are there any leads?"

Melrose reached for a folder and pulled out several pictures. "Airport security tapes picked up a possible IRA terrorist coming through Dulles two weeks ago. There's a ninety per cent probability that he's Patrick O'Grady. Apparently he used a fake passport."

Francine leaned over the desk and thumbed through the folder, her interest obviously heightened by the latest twist. "From his case file, it looks like he changes his name as often as he changes his socks."

Lee swallowed hard, imagining the disappointment Amanda must have felt, when he was too busy with one of his kids, as she referred to his dates, to come to her rescue. God, how could he have missed the urgency of her call? "Where's O'Grady now?"

"I'm afraid he's dropped out of sight," Melrose replied with a shrug. "However, one source spotted him near the Maryland state capitol several days ago. Annapolis is only about an hour's drive from Camp Harmony. It's conceivable O'Grady could be involved in the threat."

"God, the summer staff and a bunch of kids would be easy targets." Lee rubbed the back of his neck as he paced restlessly. "It sounds like the camp is very vulnerable."

Billy abandoned his chair in favor of stretching his legs. "Fortunately, we have some breathing room. The children don't arrive for two more days, so it gives us a window of opportunity to monitor the situation on the campgrounds. With a little luck, we can have everything under control before the official start of the peace camp."

Realization dawned on Francine face. "I take it we're the agents who get to do the monitoring."

"You got it," Billy said, trying to hide a wicked grin. "Clear your calendars, people. As of tonight, you'll be on staff at Camp Harmony."

"Oh, no, not tonight." A bejeweled hand sliced the air in protest. "At eight o'clock this evening, I'll be wearing a designer original to the Kennedy Center, not blue jeans and tennis shoes to a marshmallow roast."

"This is an order, Desmond. I'm not posting a sign-up sheet for volunteers.

"Francine tapped her brightly colored nails on the polished surface of the desk, apparently not ready to surrender to her boss. "Honestly, the two of us are the most unlikely people to work at a children's camp."

"Do I detect some full scale squirming on your part, Francine?" The section chief was definitely on the verge of losing his patience. "The job doesn't require a degree in childhood development. You and Stetson were children once, right? You know more than you can imagine."

Lee blew out an anxious breath. "Not really, Billy. My childhood ended when I went to live with the Colonel. He wanted to make a military man out of me, not send me to a summer camp."

A flicker of sympathy flashed in Melrose eyes. "Yes, well, Mrs. King will be there to help you play your role. As I recall, she assisted with the twelve year old whiz kid you babysat a couple of years ago."

"Yeah, Alexi." Lee was still dubious. If one child out-maneuvered him, what would a multitude do? "Billy, we'll probably stick out like sore thumbs. If terrorists are behind the threat, they're going to pick us out of the crowd immediately."

"Not if you dress the part," Melrose said. "A faded t-shirt and old jeans will help you fit in. Oh, and I think a short haircut is in order."

Lee pointed his index finger toward his boss. "Short hair? No way, Billy."

"Oh, I bet you'll look adorable." Francine's face brightened considerably as she nudged him in the side.

Lee suddenly saw the merits to the charade. "Not so fast, Goldilocks. If I end up with a buzz cut, then 'Miss Fashion plate,' needs a makeover, too. How about a pixie? The Tinker Bell look should be just perfect."

"Oh, no, you don't. Absolutely no one comes near me with scissors."

"All right, you two." Billy raised a dark hand and motioned for silence. "Francine, a pony tail and baseball cap should do the trick. Please, try to remember; you're going camping, not yachting. You should leave the make-up and jewelry at home."

"Hold it," Lee said. "Just what do you have in mind for our covers?"

Billy coughed into his fist, not quite concealing a guilty look. "Well, the peace camp is being sponsored by various civic and church organizations in the greater Baltimore, Washington, and Northern Virginia area. They have an off-site committee that's responsible for recruiting volunteers for the seven days of camp. The chairperson was very cooperative when I contacted her. You'll both have full-time positions for the week."

"Doing what?" Lee exchanged a look of dread with his stricken counterpart.

Billy flashed a broad smile. "Francine, your water safety credentials are up-to-date, so you'll be a lifeguard and a water safety instructor."

She sighed heavily. "Oh, great. I hope they don't actually expect me to get in the water."

"Relax, Francine," Lee said, offering a fiendish grin. "At least it isn't kitchen duty."

Francine glowered back at him. "And I suppose you're saving some cushy job for Stetson?"

Like a proud father, Billy slapped Lee on the back. "Scarecrow will be the assistant director."

Lee wasn't fooled for a minute. "And I bet the assistant director does the grunt work."

"You'll do anything the director wants," Melrose said, diverting his gaze to the folder. "It could be building a campfire, providing bed checks, or leading singing."

"Singing?" Lee sat down with a thud, sending Francine a scowl as she tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

"Yes, Scarecrow," Billy said, with obvious delight. "It may be time to warm up that nice baritone you rarely use."

"Billy!" Lee shook his head in vehement protest. "Even you can't make me sing."

"We'll see about that, Scarecrow." Melrose waved a dismissive hand. "Camp Harmony's staff training begins promptly at eight-thirty tonight, so be on time. Oh, and one more thing. Amanda's mother and boys are signed up for the camp, too. Try not to blow your covers, people."

* * *

><p>To be continued:<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A stiff breeze blew across the water, adding a chill to the vanishing remnants of the long summer day. Standing on the porch of the main lodge, Amanda pulled up the zipper of her warm fleece jacket and breathed in the invigorating crisp air. She relished the few minutes of silence as she scanned the panoramic view of the Maryland setting.

Lush woodlands shaded the neat row of rustic cabins, and pristine beachfront stretched for miles along the Chesapeake Bay. A profusion of wildflowers grew among the tall grass and lined the red clay pathways. Everywhere she looked, the landscape was painted with golden Black-Eyed Susan, pale blue Cornflowers and white Queen Anne's Lace.

Puffy cumulus clouds framed the emerald green of the bay, as the shadows of the evening began to creep across the fading azure sky. Embraced by the wonders of creation, Amanda felt wrapped in the comfort of peace for one brief, still moment in time.

"The calm before the storm," she whispered, remembering the challenge that lay ahead. Drawing the last bit of strength from the serene setting, she braced herself for the week to come. If a plot to disrupt the camp wasn't stopped, the mission of peace might turn into a catastrophe.

In the distance, cars traveled slowly along the gravel road, stirring up clouds of dust as they moved toward the camp parking lot. Staff training would begin soon.

Here we go, Amanda thought, wondering what assortment of helpers would make or break the week. While she knew security would be assigned, she didn't know which intelligence operatives might be planted among the volunteer staff. If only she'd confronted Lee last night, he might have offered to come. On the other hand, she didn't look forward to facing him after the telephone fiasco. Certainly it would be a lot less complicated if someone else provided the protection.

She watched PTA parents and teachers from Arlington and surrounding communities, unload their paraphernalia from car trunks and truck beds. Principal Dennison was arriving to kick off the staff training, and Phillip's middle school science teacher was coming to lead nature hikes.

Even Amanda's lawyer friend, Bryce Topping, was signed up as one of the male counselors. It would be his son's first experience with sleep-over camp, so he wanted to be supportive of his only child. Brian was Jamie's classmate and a friend of both her sons, particularly Phillip who shared a love of sports with the Topping boy.

Bryce had offered to drive her family to camp since Dotty had volunteered for kitchen duty, and the boys were registered as campers. The busy attorney hoped to wrap up a court brief tonight and arrive with his entourage on Saturday morning.

Amanda sighed. She wished her two boys had an involved father like Bryce - a strong male influence to pitch them a baseball, take them camping, and teach them how to become responsible, caring men. While Phillip and Jamie appreciated all the things she did with them, she saw the pain in their eyes when their friends looked at their fathers with hero-worship.

On the other hand, Bryce had to play the roles of both mother and father to his son. He recognized the hardship of a being a single parent better than anyone she knew. His wife's death, from cancer, had made him a widower about the same time she'd finalized her divorce from Joe.

The bang of a screen door announced the presence of the permanent summer staff, who emerged to greet the new recruits for the week. Leading the way was Brandi Litchfield, Camp Harmony's bright, beautiful, and gregarious summer director. Still single at thirty-three, the poised Miss Litchfield was an accomplished musician and a college English teacher. Well educated and well traveled, she possessed a confident, regal air that was uniquely matched by a gracious southern charm. A natural born leader, she commanded respect while winning the admiration of the entire summer staff.

Standing beside Brandi was the twenty year veteran of camp maintenance, Pete Bailey. He was onboard twelve months of the year, managing the camp. A swarthy and stocky man, he had meaty arms as big as Virginia hams. Quiet to a fault, Pete was happiest when chopping trees or refurbishing a dock.

They were soon joined on the porch by the other regular staff. Chuck Harper was the dark and handsome, 30-something, waterfront director. A man of adventure, Chuck had fought forest fires in California and served with an elite water rescue team in the Pacific. Wise-cracking with Chuck was Katie Kramer, the plucky and efficient camp nurse. With bright red hair and laughing green eyes, she had a sharp wit and a big heart.

Keeping a low profile, behind the screen door, was the ever-bossy Loretta Merkel. She served as Camp Harmony's chief cook and bottle washer and resident busy-body. While not a social butterfly, Loretta kept a watchful eye over folks' comings and goings. She was always ready to share her observations and speculations with anyone who would listen.

Also scattered around the grounds were a dozen or more students from the University of Maryland, the University of Delaware, and Salisbury University. They were all on board for a summer of scrubbing pots and pans, rowing boats, leading games, and helping to maintain the camp.

With people crowding the porch, Amanda stepped onto the wide expanse of lawn, letting Brandi Litchfield and her crew do their job. Smiling and greeting the arrivals, the gracious Mrs. King was surprised to feel a familiar hand graze the small of her back. Nothing was said, but she sensed the looming presence of her Agency colleague. "Thank God," she whispered, realizing how badly she needed him at this moment. If anyone could protect the camp and her family, it was Lee Stetson.

Lee paused next to her, waiting for the crunch of people to dissipate. "Hi, ma'am," he said, briefly touching his fingers to the brim of his cap. "Nice place."

Amanda took his cue. "It's lovely, isn't it?" Offering her hand, she placed it in his. "I'm Amanda King from Arlington, Virginia."

"It's nice to meet you, Amanda. I'm Skip Stanton from Rockville, Maryland."

"Skip?" she asked, failing to hide her surprise. Why on earth would he use his despised nickname from childhood?

"Yes, Skip," he reiterated, out of the corner of his mouth. Removing his Orioles baseball cap, he tipped it politely.

"Oh my gosh." The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

"Amanda," he hissed between clinched teeth. "Watch it."

She turned away, careful not to look at him while she spoke. "You should have warned me," she whispered. "I didn't expect you to be bald as a billiard ball." Now she had her answer to the chosen moniker. Nothing went better with the name Skip than a boyish buzz cut.

He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair and bent near to her ear. "It's just a crew cut."

"Well, I hardly recognize you." Swallowing hard, she managed to resist the temptation to run her hand over the stubble. If he was trying to hide his raw sex appeal with an innocuous haircut, he'd failed miserably.

As he stepped onto the porch, her eyes followed his every move. Despite her resolve to ignore his charms, she couldn't help but appreciate his assets. His faded jeans fit perfectly over his rounded derriere, and his UVA t-shirt hugged his muscular torso in all the right places. His strong physique was pure poetry in motion.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," a breathy voice whispered by her side.

Amanda whirled around to confront her audience. Oh, no. Francine Desmond would now top her growing list of complications. "Hello."

"Nice view, isn't it?"

Amanda felt a blush rise from her neck to her cheeks. "Yes, it certainly is wonderful from where I'm standing." They understood each other perfectly, but it was definitely time to get her mind off of Lee Stetson.

Honoring Francine's cover, Amanda politely greeted her colleague. "I'm Amanda King."

"Francine Redmond," the blonde said, with only a hint of superiority. "I'm a lifeguard and water safety instructor." A raised eyebrow and stern look sent the silent message to accept the stated cover.

Amanda nodded knowingly. "May I help you with your things?" she asked, pointing at the duffle bag and suitcase Francine was lugging along behind her. "You're a good scout, I see. You've come prepared for everything."

"Don't start. I've already heard the pep talk." Francine held her arms away from her sides and did a slow turnaround. "See, I have all sturdy, practical clothes: hiking boots, dungarees, and a hooded sweatshirt. Each and every item comes from the Leatherneck Boutique. Do I pass inspection?"

"Absolutely." Amanda swallowed a biting quip and decided to call a truce. "So, what do you think of the camp?"

"It's quaint; I'll give it that."

The shrill sound of a whistle drowned out the loud buzz of the group. "Hello, everyone," called the slender, bronzed beauty from the porch. "Welcome to Camp Harmony. I'm Brandi Litchfield, the camp director. The big fellow beside me is my assistant for the week, Skip Stanton." She draped an arm around his elbow and nudged him forward. "If anyone has a need or a concern, please bring it to our attention."

Lee waved a hand in greeting and offered his best boyish grin.

Francine tossed her pony tail in disgust and leaned closer to Amanda. "I hope good old Skip brought a snake bite kit. Before the week is out, Brandi will probably sink her fangs into his neck."

Amanda nodded grimly. No doubt, Lee had mentally cataloged the assets of the striking green-eyed blonde. Leave it to him to land the job as her assistant. From the look of things, they were going to hit it off just dandy.

Brandi continued her introduction. "If all of you will step into the lodge, you'll find your cabin assignments and work instructions, laid out alphabetically on the tables. Please feel free to settle into your accommodations, but plan on being back here at nine-thirty for the overview of the week."

As the last of the volunteers followed Brandi into the building, Lee stepped off the porch. Walking toward the cars, he barely acknowledged his colleagues with a nod. "What have you got?"

"Nothing yet," Francine replied.

"Ah, I do," Amanda said, as she turned to walk away. "Meet me at the craft cabin."

Lee glanced at his watch. "Okay, make it nine o'clock."

* * *

><p>To be continued:<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Amanda busied herself arranging the chairs around the craft tables. It was a legitimate activity to engage her time while the rest of the staff settled into their cabins.

At nine o'clock sharp, she heard the screen door open and the light click off.

"Oh," she squeaked, startled by the sudden darkness.

"Sorry," a familiar voice soothed. "I don't want to draw attention to my whereabouts." Quickly, Lee's tall frame materialized behind her, and she jumped a little when two large hands gripped her waist. "Just relax, Amanda, and let your eyes adjust to the darkness."

"Right," she said, with a raspy catch in her voice. Tensing a little, she tried to ignore the close proximity of his body. She may be mad with Lee, but her anger couldn't dim the excitement over working with him again.

He must have felt her discomfiture, because he took a careful step backward, sliding his hands from her sides. "So, what do you have for me?"

Amanda turned abruptly and bumped into his chest. "Oops, sorry."

"It's okay." He flipped on a tiny flashlight and kept the beam directed at the floor.

"Over here," she said, pointing the way to a walk-in closet. Once securely inside, she closed the door and pulled the cord on the dangling light bulb. "After making my calls last night, I came back to camp and searched the craft cabin. Unbelievably, I discovered dynamite in a storage compartment."

"God, what were you thinking?" Lee's voice betrayed his frustration. "That's why we're here, Amanda. Leave the investigation to Francine and me."

"Lee," she said with a clear reprimand, "I was the only one available last night, remember?"

"Of course, I remember, Amanda, but I'm not the one who abruptly hung-up." His chin jutted out in defiance, claiming round one of the fight between Scarecrow and Mrs. King

She shot him an incredulous look, letting him know she was ready to go toe to toe with him. Then, reining in her flash of anger, Amanda slipped off her jacket and straightened her tank top. "Well, Stetson," she said, forcing a more cheerful tone, "if you move the box of number ten tin cans, you'll see the hidden door. It's a very shallow space but big enough for a large duffle bag."

Lee set down his flashlight and began pushing craft items aside on the shelf. "Here," he said, handing her boxes of materials. "My God, there're paints, crayons, glue, scissors, popsicle sticks, clay, construction paper, and even old candles. What the hell are you going to do with all this junk?"

She rolled her eyes. "All the so-called junk is for our projects. I'll be working with small groups of children each day on crafts, stories, and songs that relate to peace."

"And what are you going to do with all the containers?" he asked, pointing to empty baby food jars and number ten tin cans.

"I'll mix paint in the jars. The large cans can be used to carry water, make small cook stoves, and melt wax for candles."

"I got it, Amanda," he said, interrupting her explanation. With both arms stretched over his head, he maneuvered a huge box of cans to the floor. "How did you reach all this stuff, anyway?"

"Well, I used a chair to reach the big box. Actually, I managed to pull the whole thing down on top of me. Those cans sure made a terrible racket when they hit the floor."

"Great, just great. I bet that attracted some unwanted attention."

"I'm reasonably certain no one was around to hear it." Off his skeptical look, she mumbled, "at least I hope not."

Lee used his pen knife to pry open the hidden panel. Feeling around the tight space with his hands, he came up empty. "Amanda, there's nothing here."

"The explosives have to be there. I put everything back exactly the way I found it. And, to be on the safe side, I kept a watchful eye on the craft cabin all day."

"Okay, let me take a better look." Stepping on the bottom shelf, he tested his weight, before boosting himself up higher. "I hope this thing holds."

"Be careful, Lee," Amanda cautioned, worried that he'd pull the shelving down on top of them. In her eagerness to help, she braced both her hands against his rear end, trying to lend support.

He turned to give her a pointed look, but said nothing.

"What?" she asked, clueless to his stare.

"Amanda, do you mind?" He swatted at her hands. "It might work better if you don't distract me."

"Oh, ah, sorry," she croaked, backing off like she'd scorched her fingers on a burning flame. What in the world was she thinking?

Peering into the hidden compartment, he shook his head. "Well, there's nothing here. You've had visitors for sure." Jumping down and missing her toes by a fraction of an inch, he wiped his dusty hands on his pants.

Amanda sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to brush off his jeans. Why did he have to look so darn irresistible at a time like this? She tried to distract herself by focusing on a mosquito that buzzed around his head. "Lee, maybe it's time to question the summer staff."

"Yeah, you're right." Absently, he swatted the bloodsucker as it landed on his neck. "Damn bug," he groaned, scratching the bite. Then crossing his arms in front of him, he assumed a defensive posture. "Amanda, without clear knowledge of the team players, I can't guess who's playing ball with terrorists. You saw the need to call in the cavalry. What are your instincts about the staff?"

"Ah, well," she started to say. The words caught in her throat as she stared at the beads of sweat pooling along his hairline. Perspiration trailed down his short sideburns and dripped onto the neckline of his t-shirt. Amanda faked a cough and averted her eyes from the masculine distraction. Gosh it was getting hot in the tight confines of the closet. Automatically, she reached for a thin paperback songbook and begin to fan them both. "I'm sorry, what was your question?"

"Amanda, you're not listening," he complained, grabbing the songbook from her hands.

She gave herself a mental shake and smiled weakly. "Well, everything seems pretty straight forward. Brandi is an excellent leader and a talented lady, but there's something peculiar that's hard to explain." Her voice trailed off.

"What?" He bent his head toward her lips, apparently trying to hear her words.

Amanda couldn't stop herself. She leaned in a little closer and whispered next to his ear. "Brandi seems too well put-together for camp life."

"Put-together?" Lee pulled away so fast, he bumped his head on the dangling light bulb. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, never mind." Too late, Amanda realized it was foolhardy to offer her perspective on feminine style to her partner. In Lee's world of glamorous women, vintage wines and gourmet foods, Brandi probably seemed perfectly normal.

He gripped her arm lightly, using it as leverage to make his point. "No, really, tell me what strikes you the most about Brandi Litchfield? The peace camp committee indicated she's well respected as a camp director."

"An off-site committee doesn't see Miss Litchfield in action," Amanda defended, trying to explain her rationale.

"And?"

"Well, I noticed she doesn't get her hands dirty."

"What?" He gave her an incredulous look. "Oh, Amanda, that's pretty lame."

"Think about it," she argued, poking a finger at his chest for added emphasis. "We're roughing it here, not getting ready for a cotillion. Everyone gets down and dirty at camp. Brandi would look more natural sipping a Mint Julep on the veranda of a southern mansion than collecting firewood for a campfire."

"Well, that's quite a stretch. She's the director, after all. I think you're over-reaching in your assessment."

"Lee, I'm sorry, but I just don't trust her. Have you noticed her eyes?"

"Her eyes? Yeah, I've noticed them. They're green, right?"

"Yes," she said, trying to avoid his intense hazel gaze. "Everyone describes Brandi as a ray of sunshine, but I see storm clouds in those green eyes. She's keeping a secret."

"Hell, we all keep secrets."

"Fine. You're probably right. You can judge her for yourself. After all, the two of you will be spending a lot of time together." The names and faces of Ava Spinelli, Magda Petrak and Lady Bromfield flashed through her mind. Gosh, for a ladies man, Lee could be blind to the foibles of women.

"Well," he said impatiently. "Do you have any other stellar insights?"

"I'm thinking," she said, biting back a nasty retort as she rehearsed the idiosyncrasies of the eclectic camp staff. "Let's see, Pete, the camp manager is quiet. Good luck having much of a conversation with him. He often communicates with grunts and nods. However, he's an accomplished carpenter, and if you need your toilet unclogged, he's your man."

"Fine! I'll definitely make a point of engaging Pete. What else have you observed?"

"Loretta Merkel, the camp cook, will talk your ear off - mostly nit-picky gossip. The woman will find fault with everyone, but I'd pay attention. She has her finger on the pulse of the camp."

"Well, I've hung out in enough mess halls to know how that goes. Maybe, I'll have to peel some potatoes soon and lend her my ear. Who else is a candidate?"

Amanda felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "One of the lifeguards looks like the guy on Magnum, P.I."

"Oh, great." Lee rolled his eyes with obvious contempt.

Good Lord, where was she going with this train of thought? "Well, you know, um, Tom 'what's his name' on the private eye TV show. Of course, I don't watch it. Well, not much, anyway. However, sometimes Mother has it on. . . ."

"Your mother? Amanda, we're looking for clues here, not documenting your mother's favorite television shows."

"Yes, of course." Her hands fumbled with the hem of her shirt, while she tried to organize her jumbled thoughts. Why was it so hard to describe another handsome man to Lee Stetson? "Well, I'm trying to tell you about Chuck Harper," she continued. "You've probably met Chuck, the waterfront director."

"You think Chuck looks like your favorite private eye?"

"Well, not exactly, but similar. You know - tall, black curly hair, mustache, handsome."

"I got that, Amanda." Lee started to pace in the impossibly small area. Two steps right - pivot. Two steps left - pivot.

Moving out of his way, with her back to the wall, Amanda pressed on. "Yes, well, Chuck is too tall."

"Too tall for what?" Lee asked, his patience teetering at the breaking point. "Amanda, must we play twenty questions?"

She bit back a retort and hurried on. "Lee, I'm trying to say that Chuck may be too tall to be the man I spotted in the fog last night."

His jaw dropped open. "That's it? Well, thank you for the valuable information. We've hardly narrowed down the possibilities." Lee brushed a hand over his short hair, looking up in surprise when he seemed to remember his crown and glory was truly gone. "Damn it," he said, dropping his hand to his side. "So, Amanda, besides the fact that your mystery man doesn't look like your TV hero, does anything else stand out?"

"Well, one of the two people threatening the camp had an accent." "Okay, that's a lead," Lee said, his interest definitely heightened. "What kind of accent?"

"The man was saying 'ye' instead of you. 'Da,' instead of Dad. It sounded Irish to me."

Lee blew out a long breath and gave her arm a squeeze. "Good, Amanda. At least we have something to go on. Did anything about the second person stand out?"

"The voice was high pitched, so I can't be sure if I heard a female or a male. The second person didn't have an accent." Amanda slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans and shrugged her shoulders. "The companion could be any of the college girls I met this week or even a teenage male."

"Okay, it's not much, but it's all we've got." Lee pushed the supplies back into place and shoved the box of tin cans onto the top shelf. When everything was ready, he handed Amanda her jacket, motioned toward the door, and tugged on the light cord, casting them into darkness.

Before they could exit, the screech of a screen door brought them up short. Someone had entered the craft cabin. An illumination moved under the closet door, as the beam of a flashlight scanned the main room.

Lee's hand shot out to halt Amanda's exit. Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her backward, placing his hand firmly over her mouth. "Wait," he whispered.

When she nodded in understanding, he slowly dropped his hand. Two bare arms encircled her like a cocoon as he bound her body tightly to his own. Too tight, in her estimation, but, given the predicament they were in, who was she to quibble.

Voices echoed through the cabin, confirming the presence of at least two people. The lightness of their tone and the mingling of their laughter made it seem non-threatening. Regardless, it wouldn't look good for Amanda King and Skip Stanton, if they were caught in a dark supply closet.

The wait seemed interminable. Despite the stuffiness in the enclosed area, goose bumps erupted along her forearms as Lee's hot skin pressed against her exposed flesh. Secured in place, she sagged against him, acutely conscious of the rise and fall of his chest. She'd have to sort out all the mixed signals he was sending when he wasn't standing so close. For now, Amanda reminded the doubting part of her brain that her relationship with Lee was strictly business. The intimacy of the moment was just Scarecrow being protective and keeping her out of trouble.

To her horror, the voices grew louder as footsteps scuffed across the floor toward their hiding place.

"Let's check the supply closet," came the distinct nasal twang of Tonya, one of the female lifeguards. "No one will mind if we borrow a few pencils and a notebook for the dock."

"Good idea," her companion squeaked in a youthful voice.

A thump against the door announced their imminent arrival. "How do you open this thing?" Tonya asked with an annoying whine.

"If you'll move, I'll show you. The latch is tricky." With the sound of scuffling feet and adolescent giggles, the two seemed to change places.

"Ouch. Watch it, Frankie. That's my foot." There was another burst of laughter.

"Oh, my gosh." Amanda turned to face Lee, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. "What do we do?"

"Play along," Lee whispered as he gathered her snuggly against his frame. There was an exhale of warm breath, and then his mouth descended, crushing her lips beneath his own.

Stunned, Amanda felt her knees buckle. This couldn't be happening. But it was, and she caught on fast. By God, she was going to validate his chosen cover. Pulling back a little, she braced her hands against his chest, reveling in the play of muscles beneath her fingers and the brush of whiskers against her chin. Eagerly accepting his offering, she tenderly moved her lips against the contours of his greedy mouth.

He deepened the kiss and she rewarded his efforts with a pent up passion that longed for release. For an endless moment, all reason took flight. Then, with great effort, she reminded herself to stay focused. This was all an act. Even so, it was the best role she'd ever played.

As expected, the door flew open, the light cord was pulled, and they were fully exposed to their unsuspecting audience.

"Oh, excuse me," Tonya cried, before recognition dawned. "Mrs. King?"

Lee pulled back first, his expression a mixture of shock and awe. Blowing out a rough breath, he flashed his best Stetson smile for the benefit of the intruders. "Well," he said in a husky voice, "there's no privacy around here."

"I'm so sorry," Tonya said, holding her hands to her face in complete dismay.

"Aren't you two a little old for necking in closets?" the squeaky clean Frankie McGuire asked, his voice changing from manly baritone to boy soprano in mid-sentence.

"Frankie!" Tonya chastised him with a poke of her elbow.

A flush of embarrassment burned its way from Amanda's chest to her cheeks. "Please excuse us. We are just . . ."

"Just catching up on old times," Lee supplied with a boyish wink. "We were quite an item in high school. What a shock it was to find each other after all these years." Taking a healthy step back from his supposed ex-girlfriend, he grinned again. "We wanted to enjoy a kiss for old time sake. There's nothing more to it."

"No, nothing more to it," Amanda added, her breathing still a bit labored. Running a trembling finger along the neckline of her shirt, she forced a smile and changed the subject. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Ah, forget it. We'll come back tomorrow." Tonya turned around and shoved Frankie out the door. Then lowering the beams of their flashlights toward the floorboards, the two practically ran for the exit.

Amanda watched them go, dreading any gossip that might arise from the encounter. "That went well, don't you think?" she said, with biting sarcasm. "What if this gets back to the rest of the staff?"

"Forget it, Amanda. No one is going to believe them."

"Well, thank you very much." To her chagrin, she was more affected than he was by the kiss. "I thought we had an Oscar winning performance," she mumbled under her breath.

Lee's eyes widened, before he coughed and looked away. "Let it go, will yeah?" Quickly he yanked at the dangling light cord and led her from the closet.

Amanda grabbed the back of his shirt before he could escape. "What should I do about Mother and the boys? They're scheduled to arrive tomorrow. Things might get dangerous, and they really shouldn't see us working together."

"God, I forgot. Billy did say they'd be here." Turning on his heel, he exhaled an exasperated breath. "Listen, I don't think they should come at all."

"Gosh, they're going to be very disappointed if I tell them not to show up."

"I know, I know." He rested a comforting hand at the narrow of her waist. "Amanda, disappointment is better than the alternative. Do you think you could use the phone in the camp office while everyone is busy with orientation? If you're going to cancel their plans, you should probably do it tonight."

"I'll try, but it will take a pretty convincing reason to change Mother's mind."

He patted her back gently and then turned to go. "Maybe," he called over his shoulder, "you could tell her the whole concept of a peace camp may be blown out of proportion."

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Lee sighed and looked at his watch yet again. It was already ten-thirty, and the staff orientation was still in progress. My God, if one evening could seem like a full day, how was he going to get through a week of camp?

Francine rolled her eyes when he glanced in her direction. She was, no doubt, about to succumb to terminal boredom. Billy would never hear the end of it when they finished the assignment.

His eyes wandered toward the refreshment table where Amanda was busy serving punch and cookies. It was easy to see that the suburban housewife was in her element. She was chatting merrily with a couple of male counselors - most likely, PTA dads. Despite his determination to remain indifferent, Lee felt his fists clinch in protest. What the hell was wrong with him? She was free to flirt to her heart's content, but did she have to do it with such obvious losers? Even her TV weatherman, ex-boyfriend, Dan, Dave, or Dagwood, was a better catch than the balding nerds decked out in pocket t-shirts, Bermuda shorts, and black socks with sneakers.

Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the monotonous drone of the speaker. It wasn't long before he felt his eyes drift close and his chin sag to his chest. Giving his head a shake, he tried to sit up straighter on the small metal chair. God, what was the topic now? Was it something about the rotation of latrine duty? This place was a nightmare.

The first half-hour of training was devoted to the goals of the camp, and that was all well and good. However, once the staff got into the daily minutia of mail call, waiting tables, and swim buddies, things spiraled down from there.

The camp nurse tried to liven up the group with a fifteen minute litany on mosquito bites, sunburn, homesickness, and bedwetting. Then the botany expert spent another ten minutes pointing out the difference between Poison Oak, Poison Ivy, and Poison Sumac. By the time the camp cook listed the ingredients for campfire foil dinners, everyone appeared to glaze over. When a Junior Trailblazers' leader started proclaiming the merits of a Swiss Army Knife, a spool of twine, and a water proof match, Lee had to step outside before he screamed.

"You've reached your boredom threshold, I see." Francine came up behind him and took a seat on the porch railing.

"Hell, yes." Lee swung his arms back and forth, trying to stretch the kinks out of his back. "You, too, huh? I'm surprised you didn't walk out when the camp nurse banned platform shoes for the week."

Francine pulled some Hershey Kisses from her jacket pocket and offered him one. "Well, I expected you to leave when the senior lifeguard turned thumbs down on 'Speedos'."

He snorted with contempt. "I also heard him say, 'no bikinis'? Nude sunbathing must be out, too."

"Yeah, well, let's hope the little darlings don't drown," Francine said, readjusting her ponytail. "If I have to drop my sweats, they may be less than thrilled with my one piece."

Lee grinned, remembering the beach attire of the lovelies he met in Bermuda. "Skimpy, I take it."

"Well, I bought it for Aruba, not summer camp."

"So," he said, checking his watch yet again. "Did you manage to win the adoration of the muscle men in the crowd?"

"You mean those kids they hired as lifeguards? My tastes run a little older, a little wiser, and a lot more financially set in life."

"Amanda was crowing about some Tom Selleck look-alike who heads up the waterfront."

"You mean Chuck?" Francine threw her head back and laughed, nearly losing her balance on the railing. "Chuck's cute, but not that cute. Amanda needs to get a life."

Lee nodded, relieved to prove the little housewife wrong. "So, did any of the glamour boys strike you as terrorist types?"

"Not a one. The only Irishman among the bunch was the kid with freckles - Freddie, Frankie or Francis something or other. He must be a late bloomer because his high pitched voice hasn't caught up with his six foot, lanky body. For all his size, he couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag."

"Frankie sounds like the kid that surprised Amanda and me in the craft closet." Lee gave his head a firm shake, trying to quell the instant replay of their surreal intimacy.

"Oh?" Francine tilted her head inquisitively. "What were you and Amanda doing in a closet?"

"It was nothing," Lee said, dismissing her inquiry. Nervously, he began to pace, trying to vanquish the vivid memory of Amanda pressed against him in the tight confines of the closet. God, he didn't want to tell Francine about the cover kiss. He was still struggling to downplay it in his own mind. What had possessed him to get so carried away with the charade? Hell, he'd planned to keep it short and sweet, until Amanda upped the ante with her eager response.

"Earth to Lee." Francine's teasing tone quickly brought him out of his reverie.

Abruptly switching roles, Scarecrow clasped his hands behind his back and assumed a professional stance. "Ah, did you check out the boathouse for explosives?"

"Of course," she said, indignant that he even needed to ask. "It's clean."

Lee lowered his weary frame into an Adirondack chair and propped his feet on the railing. "When the camp settles down for the night, I want to have a look at the maintenance building. Amanda claims to have found and then lost some explosives."

"Maybe they were all a figment of her overactive imagination."

"I doubt it. She's usually right on the money."

The sudden scraping of chairs on concrete announced the dismissal of the training session. Soon the doors to the lodge opened wide, and bleary-eyed trainees emerged, stretching and yawning in the dim light of the porch.

"Oh, there you are." The lilting voice of the camp director turned Lee's head immediately. "I see you and your friend are busy with your own staff training."

Francine pasted on a smile and gave a disingenuous wave of her hand.

Lee jumped to the rescue. "Ah, Brandi Litchfield, I'd like you to meet Francine . . . . I'm sorry, what is your last name?"

"Redmond - I'm Francine Redmond. I'll be helping with water safety instruction."

"Hello, Frannie. Do they call you Frannie?"

"Ah, no, Bambi."

"That's Brandi, dear."

"Of course, Brandi."

Lee closed his eyes to the exchange. He guessed the week was growing longer by the minute.

The camp director seemed unfazed by the encounter. "Miss Redmond, if you'll excuse us, I need to get better acquainted with my new assistant."

Giving Francine a dismissive wave, Brandi led Lee down the stairs and along the lighted walkway.

"Skip, have you had the grand tour?" she asked, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow.

"Ah, no, but I'm game." Letting Brandi pick the path along the shoreline, he decided to turn on the charm. "Nice night - almost as lovely as my personal guide."

She was having none of it. "So, Mr. Skip Stanton, other than charming the ladies, did the committee have something particular in mind for you to do?"

"Just consider me at your beck and call." He grinned sheepishly.

All business, Brandi gave him a pointed look. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself. I'm entitled to know the credentials of my assistant."

He looked at her for a beat, surprised by her bluntness. "Well, okay, that sounds fair. What do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, I'd like to know your given name, your background, and what you do when you're not a camp volunteer?"

He saluted smartly, eager to prove he had the right stuff. "Lee Stanton, ma'am, born 1950 in Washington D.C. Raised on a dozen military bases. Graduated from the University of Maryland. Served in Viet Nam."

"So, you're the strong, brave, defender type, I would suspect." She made a show of checking his biceps. "Are you still in the military?"

"I hung up the uniform. On most days, the employee dress code includes anything from three piece suits to jeans and denim shirts." He pulled a brochure from his hip pocket, prepared to validate his cover. "I work for International Federal Film. The peace committee hopes I'll get some shots of your camp and document the event." Lee offered a wide dimpled grin to enhance his charade.

Brandi appeared impressed. "Okay, Mr. Charm, so tell me about your interests, your hobbies, and your family?"

He shrugged, wondering what to say. "Well, I've always been an avid history buff, particularly the Civil War period and World War II. Football was my passion in college, so, as you can imagine, I'm a big Washington Redskins fan. As a boy, I was into baseball, basketball, swimming and horses. I think kids and horses are a natural."

"So, you're a family man?"

"I'm a bachelor," he said with a wink.

"Oh, you're single. So am I." Brandi's smile brightened considerably, and her hand wrapped around his arm a little tighter. "How did the girls miss you?"

He shrugged. "Apparently, I never dated the right one."

"What about children?" she asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "You must like children, or you wouldn't be here."

Her looked nailed him. He'd better come up with something convincing. "Sure, I like kids," he continued, struggling to sound persuasive. "I, ah, took care of a boy for a brief period of time, and I've helped with little league baseball."

"Terrific, you're a coach."

"Well, I support a kids' team from time to time. I, ah, show up at the games, assist the parents, and buy the booster club baked goods." He winced at the painful memory of one rock solid Brownie he'd dropped on his toe at the King boys' little league game.

"Are there children who are special to you? I imagine you have nieces, nephews, and neighbor kids."

"Well, they're two boys I keep an eye on. The father isn't around, so I sort of look in on them." Lee cleared his throat, wondering how Amanda would feel about him using her sons as a cover. At least every word was the honest to God truth, even if he never got any closer to the boys than the kitchen window.

Brandi seemed impressed. "Well, Skip, you should fit in perfectly. Your experience with children and your athletic interests are big pluses for you."

He nodded at her compliment. Apparently he'd been convincing. "So, how do you plan to utilize me as your assistant?"

"Oh, there's plenty for you to do," she said, flashing him a stellar smile. "I can keep you busy organizing team sports, helping with the evening campfire, and handling discipline problems."

"Discipline?" The very word brought back haunting memories of severe reprimands, sound spankings, and endless days of being grounded. After his own strict upbringing, he'd rather err on the side of permissiveness. "What kind of discipline?"

"How have you handled children in the past, Skip?"

He grinned when he recalled the expensive toys he bought for Alexi, the Captain Galaxy doll he ordered from Japan for Phillip, and the clown he engaged for Jamie's birthday party. "I subscribe to the theory that kids deserve a little spoiling."

Brandi's brilliant smile drooped like a bouffant hairdo on a rainy day. "Oh, Skip, you're going to need some firmness to manage dozens of children."

"Ah, yeah, of course." Thinking of Amanda's parenting style, he quickly recovered. "Firmness with patience and understanding, right?"

"Absolutely," she crowed, her trust in him apparently restored. "There's another important role you can fill this week."

"Oh?" God, what now? Whatever she had in mind, he was sure he'd exhausted his limited experience with children.

Brandi placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. "I'll be relying on your boyish charm to liven up camp spirit. You know - camp cheers and songs. I hope you like to lead singing."

His spirit plummeted. "Well, not really. I mean, I've never tried."

"I'll help you," she assured. "I play the piano."

"Great, but you'll be sorry. I never sing anywhere, except in my shower." He slapped a hand against his thigh. Damn it, Billy had certainly overreached on this assignment. Sighing heavily, he decided to turn the tables on Brandi. "What's a beautiful, single gal doing in a place like this?" His arms swept the landscape as if it was the desolate Australian Outback.

She seemed a bit surprised. "And why not? Teaching is my passion, and I adore the great outdoors. While I'm not the tomboy you might expect in a female camp leader, I have my own gifts to share. The peace camp holds a special interest for me. Children need to learn tolerance and non-violent resolution skills at an early age. If you ever saw the movie 'South Pacific' you should recall the Rogers and Hammerstein song 'You've Got to Be Carefully Taught'."

Lee shrugged. "Yeah, I remember my high school putting on the musical. There was a song about children being taught to hate and fear."

"Exactly. We need to teach children a better way of relating to each other."

"Are you Irish?" he asked, fishing for revealing information. "Your name doesn't sound Irish."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am Irish, but I've lived in the U.S. since I was a young child. Brandi is a nickname my mother and stepfather called me. Actually I was christened Brianna."

"Brianna - very pretty." Hopefully with a little hand-holding and soft interrogation, he'd have her singing like a bird. "So, tell me more about your experience with the peace camps. Do the children always get along?"

"Not at first. It's our job to ease much of the tension and help the children form friendships."

"Sounds like quite a challenge. Does it ever get dangerous?" He watched her tense at his question.

She shrugged it off quickly. "Nothing serious. Of course, there's some name calling, pushing and shoving, a rare punch in the nose. Why do you ask? Should I be worried?"

"No," he said, trying to downplay any suspicions. "I just wondered. A peace camp for warring factions, no matter how young, is quite an undertaking."

"But a worthy undertaking. Don't you think?"

"Absolutely. Who knows? There could be peace in Northern Ireland in our lifetime."

They continued their stroll along the water's edge, walking arm in arm. It seemed clear that each of them had a separate agenda. Brandi was using her flirtations to size him up, while he was toying with her affections to gain information. Their little game could certainly create the illusion of a couple enjoying a romantic evening.

Hoping to gain the advantage, Lee paused under the canopy of Maple trees. Then turning to face Brandi, he placed his hands firmly on her trim waist. "So, we have a week to get to know each other."

"I'm looking forward to it," she replied with a light laugh.

Seizing the moment, he stepped closer and whispered in her ear. "It should be an interesting week for both of us. We'll just have to make the most of our time together. . . ."

The crunch of stones on the pathway brought him up short. Suddenly a beam of a light zeroed in on them as a walker approached. A familiar raspy voice gave fair warning. "Pardon me."

Lee's head jerked around like the crack of a bullwhip. "Ah, Amanda," he sputtered before he could stop himself. He couldn't believe her impeccable timing, two nights running.

Amanda stopped in her tracks and studied her feet, forgetting to lower the beam of her flashlight. "Oh, Brandi, Skip, I'm so sorry to interrupt. . . ." Her voice trailed off as she fumbled for an explanation.

The surprised Miss Litchfield did a quick double take. "So, do you two already know each other?"

Amanda looked up in alarm. "No."

"Yes," Lee said at the same instant.

Brandi looked from one to the other. "Well, do you or don't you?"

Lee coughed into his hand, deferring to the always resourceful Mrs. King.

She caught on immediately. "Well, yes and no," she answered, her voice sounding like sand paper on wood. "We knew each other once, but we don't really know each other anymore. Ah, at least, we don't know each other in the strict sense of the word. What I really mean is . . . we're old acquaintances who are new again."

"I beg your pardon," Brandi said, shaking her head doubtfully. Lee averted his gaze, trying to forget that he'd kissed Amanda with total abandon only an hour ago. "Ah, yeah, we sort of unexpectedly bumped into each other tonight and got reacquainted."

"Yes, it was nice to do a little catching up," Amanda agreed, touching her fingers to her lips.

The beam of her flashlight hit Lee squarely in the face, exposing his discomfiture. He tried to shield his eyes. "Amanda, do you mind?"

"Sorry," she said, lowering the light to the ground and setting her feet in motion. With deliberate care, she managed to dodge the bottleneck and inch her away around them. "If you'll excuse me, I'll let you two return to whatever it was you were doing." She hurried down the path, never looking back.

Lee watched helplessly as she skirted away. There'd be no explaining himself tonight.

"So, you've been busy in your short time at camp." Brandi laughed, taking his arm. "Let's see; you've met Amanda, and Francine, and who else? No wonder you've never married. You've obviously enjoyed playing the field."

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Robins chirped their morning repertoire from the treetops. A woodpecker drilled incessantly on the side of the cabin. Squirrels leaped from branches and scampered across the roof. Gradually nature's entertainment penetrated the groggy brain of the sleep deprived Lee Stetson.

He rolled over with a moan and looked at his watch. My God, it was nine o'clock, and he'd missed breakfast. Why in hell didn't one of his cabin mates wake him up? There'd be no facing Brandi. Miss Punctuality would probably fire him on the spot.

Jumping from his cot, Lee hit the floor running. "Damn," he muttered as he grabbed a towel and utility kit from his duffle bag. He hardly had time for a shower. Or maybe no time at all. Where in the world was the bathroom?

The cabin had three bedrooms, a living room, and a closet with a toilet and sink. Where did they put the damn shower? Then the sad truth sunk in; he needed to traipse across the quadrangle to the bathhouse, just like a twelve year old camper? How did he miss such an important detail during orientation?

Looking down at his bare chest and boxer shorts, Lee realized he'd have to get dressed before undressing to take a shower. His usual morning ritual would require a long hike to and from the community bathhouse. Well, forget that. He wasn't going to parade passed every volunteer and staff member at Camp Harmony in order to rinse off in some brick and mortar out-building with cold water and a male "gang" shower. A dip in the bay would probably offer more amenities.

Pulling on the same t-shirt and jeans from the previous day, he toed into his sneakers without pausing for socks. The dilemma of showering would have to wait until later. Grabbing his comb, toothbrush and toothpaste, he hurried toward the sink. With a quick once over, he'd be ready to go. Lifting his comb to his head, reality hit him like a sucker punch. His hair was gone. He wouldn't be combing anything, anytime soon. "Damn it."

"Pssst."

"Hell," he said. "What's that?"

"Pssst, Lee." A voice called from a porch window. "Lee, are you in there?"

"Amanda?"

"Good morning, Lee." His rather subdued colleague greeted him as he opened the door.

He stood there like a dope, staring at her attire. My God, she looked like a leprechaun. Amanda was dressed in a bright Kelly green t-shirt and matching baseball cap with the words "Peace Camp" embossed in fluorescent yellow letters across the front of both. Cut-off jeans and tennis shoes completed the ensemble.

"What are you wearing?" he blurted out, before he could stop himself. "Your get-up reminds me of the 'Cub Scout Lady' outfit you wore on our first case."

Her face fell at his ill-chosen words, and she crossed the threshold in stoic silence.

"Very cute," he added, but it was definitely too late to redeem the moment.

Ignoring his social faux pas, she held out a cup and a bulging napkin. "I thought you might need some help waking up."

He took the offering with a big smile. "Black coffee and a day old roll. Thank you!"

"You're welcome." Amanda wrinkled her nose when she spied the discarded pizza cartons that cluttered the tiny living room. "Late party?"

"No," he grumbled, clearing off the moth-eaten sofa with a broad sweep of his hand. "The guys were a little hungry last night. I missed out, since I used the late hours to search the maintenance building." He motioned for her to sit down.

Amanda remained standing, hovering near the door like a skittish deer on the edge of the woods. "So, did you find the dynamite?"

"No, nothing. Maybe the stuff is long gone." He wolfed down the roll in three bites and drowned it with a big swallow of coffee.

Amanda cleared her throat, refusing to meet his eyes. "Lee, I'd better go. Brandi will probably march in here any minute. She was watching me like a hawk. I think she suspects we're more than acquaintances."

"Just relax, okay. Brandi isn't going to hike all this way to look for me. It's not her style."

"Want to bet? She asked me if I'd seen you when you failed to show for breakfast. Apparently you made quite an impression last night."

"Oh, great." He paused to study her restrained demeanor. The cheery Amanda King smile was definitely missing this morning. "Listen, I know we need a chance to talk, so let's try to get together later."

"Fine," she responded with a non-committal shrug.

Lee reached for her arm as she moved to go. He needed to say something that would get him back in her good graces. "How are things on the home front?"

"Okay, I guess," she answered with a small smile. "Mother wasn't happy, but I managed to talk her out of coming."

"Good." Putting his wallet in his back pocket, he was startled when a knock announced another guest.

"Hello, Skip," a voice called through the door. "It's Brandi."

"Oh my gosh." Amanda's eyes grew wide as she looked to Lee for direction.

"Coming," Lee called. Quickly, he grabbed his colleague's arm and propelled her into the bedroom. "Stay out of sight."

Amanda popped her head into the living room again. "Lee, the coffee cup," she whispered.

He shoved it into her hand and motioned frantically for her to hide. Then hearing the door open, he whirled around and blocked the bedroom with his tall frame. "Good morning," he said, plastering on his best wide dimpled grin.

"Good morning, Skip." The flawless Miss Litchfield surveyed the room as if looking for something. Apparently satisfied, she graced him with a sparkling smile. "Well," she said, "I assume you overslept."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I promise you, it won't happen again." Lee shook his head at the vision in front of him. She was positively stunning in her crisp white linen slacks, a scoop-neck, stripe jersey, and sling-back, navy espadrilles. Amanda was right; Brandi did look out of place at camp. On the other hand, maybe she felt her classy apparel fit the status of her position. Everything about her commanded respect.

The camp director scanned his rumpled clothes and announced her verdict. "I think ten demerits are in order for that outfit, Skip. As I recall, it's the same one you wore yesterday." She opened a canvas bag and handed him a shirt with the camp logo. "You can redeem yourself by looking official today."

He held up the Kelly green camp t-shirt. "Ah, no thanks. I think I'll pass."

Brandi's eyebrows disappeared underneath her golden bangs. "I beg your pardon?" Clearly she took her position of authority seriously.

Lee back-pedaled. "I can put on some Dockers and a button-down shirt for appearance sake."

"No, Skip. I need you to be clearly identifiable to the kids today."

"Kids?" His mouth dropped open in surprise. "I thought they wouldn't show-up until tomorrow."

"We have a few children here already, and I think you could benefit from a practice run with the kids. I didn't hear you mention any experience with little girls. They're an entirely different species from boys. You can do some chaperoning while their parents are occupied with orientation."

"Chaperoning? You mean babysitting?" He took a deep breath and coaxed his face to relax. If he wasn't careful, she was going to see right through his deception.

Brandi laughed. "Skip, don't look so overwhelmed. I thought childcare would be right down your alley?"

"You bet," he said, snapping the Scarecrow façade firmly into place. "Bring um on. We'll have fun."

"That's the spirit." Brandi smiled and opened the door. "Take them swimming and boating. Chuck will assign a lifeguard to help you. Actually today will be a good opportunity for you to get oriented to the waterfront, before we have a hundred kids running all over the place."

"Wait," he called as she started down the steps. "How many kids will I be watching today?"

"There are four, so far." Brandi shielded her eyes and looked toward the camp parking lot. "No, make that seven. I see three more children just now getting out of a car."

"Seven!" Lee gasped, following her gaze with escalating dread. Sure enough, three kids were scampering across the open field.

Brandi lifted her arm in a breezy wave. "You'll do fine, Skip. Meet me at the lodge in ten minutes. The children will gather there."

"Right," he mumbled to her retreating back. Pulling off his rumpled UVA t-shirt, he walked through the bedroom door, whispering to Amanda. "You can come out now." At first, there was no answer, so he tried again. "Hey, where are you hiding?"

"Here," a muffled voice called from his bed.

Hurrying to her side, he pulled back a corner of his sleeping bag and watched with amusement as her slender frame rolled over. "Amanda, get out of there. The coast is clear." He couldn't help but laugh at the sight. With her hair mussed and her midriff exposed, she looked absolutely adorable.

"Oh," she squeaked, taking in the sight of his naked upper body. Immediately a fiery red crimson spread across her cheeks.

He smiled sheepishly at the blushing Mrs. King. It was so much fun to startle Amanda. "If you'll excuse me," he said, motioning toward the door. "I really need to slip into my swim trunks."

"Ah, yes, of course," she stammered, pulling herself together. "I'll wait in the next room." She took another peek as she scampered passed him, securely closing the door behind her.

He was just about to drop his pants, when she dashed back in.

"A-man-da!"

"I forgot my hat," she explained, standing in front of him with her eyes tightly closed.

Wrestling it from the covers, he perched it on her head. "Now go?"

"I'm gone. I'm gone."

He no sooner had his swimsuit in place, when he heard a gasp from the living room.

"Oh no, Lee. Come quick."

"What?" he asked, rushing through the door with his official Camp Harmony t-shirt clutched in his hand. "What the hell is wrong now?"

"Look," she said, pointing out the window. "It's Mother and the boys."

"Amanda, I thought I told you to keep them away." He stood with hands on hips, weighing the latest debacle.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I tried, Lee, but you know how stubborn my mother can be."

"Humph, you got that right. The West women cornered the market on stubbornness." Sighing, he put an arm around her slender shoulders. "I'm afraid things just got a lot more complicated."

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Amanda rushed toward the lodge, accompanied by her very skeptical partner, who looked like a man about to face the firing squad. All bets were off. With Mother and the boys on the campgrounds, she'd have to factor them into every choice and detail.

Confronting Dotty West was not going to be easy, especially when it came to introducing Lee. Thank God, he had a bogus name and bogus look. The tall guy dressed in swim trunks and a camp t-shirt, and sporting a fresh crew cut, was a far cry from the dashing intelligence operative of her secret life. With arms and legs exposed, he looked more like basketball's Larry Bird, the Boston Celtic superstar, than federal agent Lee Stetson, the legendary super spy.

"I'll wait here," Lee said, swinging a leg over the porch railing. "You go ahead and greet your family. Then, I guess, they get to size me up." He shook his head in disbelief. "How did you let this happen?"

"Me?" Amanda bit back a nasty retort, realizing he was ill-prepared to meet her family. Instead, her eyes bore into his, until he finally looked away. "Let's just get through the introductions as best we can." With no further exchange, she pulled open the screen door and marched into the fray. The defining moment was really here. How many times had she tried to picture her boys with Lee, only to draw a blank? Now the days of wondering were over. Ready or not, her secret life was about to collide with her precious family life. A top intelligence operative, an illusive terrorist, and her mother and sons were all coming together like a perfect storm.

It was time to put aside her fears and trust Lee to protect those nearest and dearest to her heart. Stepping inside the lodge, she was spotted immediately by her family. "Mom, Mom," the boys yelled, as they ran in her direction. Flinging themselves into her arms, they practically bowled her over.

"Hi, fellas. I'm so glad to see you." She couldn't get enough of them as she kissed their cheeks and ran her fingers through their hair.

Phillip pulled back in typical preteen alarm. "Aw, Mom, you're being too mushy."

In younger brother fashion, Jamie was more tolerant. "We've missed you, Mom."

"I've missed you guys, too."

"Hello, darling." Dotty West didn't hesitate before she embraced her daughter.

Amanda held her mother tightly, determined to make the best of the present circumstances. "So, you decided to come anyway."

"Don't be upset, dear. If you'd seen the boys' faces when I tried to cancel the trip, you'd have relented, too."

"I know, Mother. It wasn't fair to appoint you the messenger of bad news."

Dotty pulled from the embrace and studied her daughter. "Honestly, I don't know why you told me the camp was infected with 'Montezuma's revenge'. Everyone seems perfectly fine. Besides, a week of camp is worth the risk of an upset stomach."

Amanda felt a stab of guilt, but hurried to defend her lie. "Oh, apparently the threat of illness was just an unfortunate rumor. However, when it comes to you and the boys, I can't be too cautious. Seeing you here makes me feel a whole lot better."

"Things always look better in the light of day, don't they, darling?" Dotty gazed out of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Chesapeake Bay. "It's more beautiful than I remembered. I'm sure the week will be quite memorable for all of us."

"Yes, Mother. It will definitely be memorable."

Always vigilant, Brandi Litchfield approached the family group. "Amanda, do you have visitors from home?" There was the slightest annoyance in her tone that probably went unnoticed by anyone who didn't know the camp director.

Amanda forced a cheery smile and graciously went through the introductions as the boys fidgeted through the pleasantries. "My mother will be volunteering in the kitchen, and Phillip and Jamie will be campers."

"How nice," Brandi said, her southern charm emerging in full view. "I hope you enjoy the week."

"How can we miss?" Dotty said, flinging her arms wide. "The panoramic view of the bay is absolutely gorgeous."

Brandi nodded politely and then looked around the room? "Amanda, have you seen Skip? I asked him to watch the children this morning."

"Skip?" Dotty asked, with a raised eyebrow. "Who's Skip?"

"Here he comes now." Amanda ignored Brandi's accusatory look and her Mother's sudden interest. She watched Lee take the longest route possible in their direction, apparently stalling while he summoned his courage. Before he could reach them, another voice called from across the room.

"Amanda." Practically on a collision course with Lee, Bryce Topping arrived first, quickly engulfing her in his arms. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"Hello, Bryce." she said, keeping an eye on Lee's reaction. "I'm glad to see you, too." Apparently their audience was of mixed mind: Dotty beamed with pride, Brandi watched with surprise, and Lee glared with animosity. Amanda shuddered at the dynamics. The irony wasn't lost on her, not one bit. The quirky blend of diverse humanity was one of the least cohesive groups ever brought together for a peace camp.

Brandi seemed to recover first. "Amanda, why don't you introduce us to your gentleman friend? It appears you two are quite close."

"Ah, well yes," she said, noting Lee's nervous pacing as he lurked in the background. "Brandi Litchfield, I'd like you to meet Bryce Topping, one of the counselors for the week. Bryce's son is in Jamie's class at school."

"Where is Brian?" Dotty asked with grandmotherly concern. Somehow Bryce had managed to lose the mischievous boy.

A clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen seemed to be the first clue to his whereabouts. Everyone turned toward the commotion just in time to see Loretta Merkel chase little Brian out the door with a cookie clutched in each of his hands.

"Excuse me," Bryce said, dashing off to take charge of his son.

Lee gave Amanda a desperate look. Whatever courage he'd mustered for childcare duty was now shot to pieces by Brian's antics. Clearly Skip Stanton was reluctant to take on the troops.

"I'll help you," Amanda mouthed to Lee.

Brandi watched their exchange. "Oh, there you are," she said, beckoning to Lee. "Everyone, this is Skip Stanton, my assistant."

"Hi," he said inanely, the Stetson charisma definitely taking a short holiday.

Dotty's smile brightened immediately. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stanton," she said, giving him a head to toe once over.

Amanda took a deep breath, preparing for the Dorothea West 'advice to the lovelorn' that would surely come later. No doubt, Mother would pepper her with commentary on the merits of Skip, Bryce, Chuck, and any other eligible adult male in camp.

Brandi motioned toward the boys. "Skip, you'll be spending the morning with Phillip and Jamie King."

The brothers eyed Lee warily, but stepped up to shake his hand when nudged forward by their grandmother.

"I'm hot," the eldest complained. "Can we go swimming now?"

"I want to go boating," Jamie whined.

Amanda gave Lee an apologetic look as he took a step away from her petulant children. There was no way on earth to modulate a child's whine to make it acceptable to the human ear. "If you'll excuse me, I'll help Skip get the boys down to the waterfront."

"Well, we do need to start orientation." Brandi placed a hand on Lee's arm. "The Kramer twins and the Kelly children are waiting on the porch. With seven children, it appears you'll need Amanda's help for the morning."

"Thanks," he said, relief evident on his tan face.

Amanda wasn't blind to the flash of regret in Brandi's eyes. It was obvious the director had no choice, but to pair them together, no matter how much she preferred to keep them apart.

With a single clap of his hands, Lee finally emerged from his stupor. "Okay, guys, let's get you ready for the beach."

"All right," they said in unison as they took off after their leader.

Amanda followed the trio, paying careful attention to Lee's hesitant body language. The Scarecrow cockiness was missing in action, as was the steely determination he relied on in life or death situations. Clearly nothing in his boyhood or Agency training had prepared him for his new role. Amanda could only hope that, buried somewhere in Lee's psyche, an innate talent and fondness for children waited to be tapped. When push came to shove, he was going to need natural instincts to respond appropriately. Without a doubt, the kids were going to test him to the limit.

They'd no sooner made it to the porch when they were joined by the Toppings. "Do you mind if I tag along for awhile?" Bryce asked, apparently at his wit's end. "I don't dare abandon Brian until he settles down a bit."

Lee glanced at his partner and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure," he finally said, offering an affable handshake to Bryce. "We could use another recruit."

"Don't forget the girls." Amanda grabbed Lee's arm and spun him around to face his female charges. "Skip, I'd like to introduce Jenny and Julie, Nurse Kramer's twin daughters. Jenny's wearing the pink barrettes, and Julie's wearing the white ones."

"Hello ladies," he said with a smile. "I like your yellow polka-dot bathing suits." Even the avowed loner seemed momentarily enchanted by the identical pixies.

"Hi," they said in tandem. A perfect match, the seven year olds stared at Lee with big blue eyes and gapped tooth smiles. The twins, like women of all ages and stations in life, were instantly smitten by the green-eyed giant. Their little snub noses crinkled as they studied him with amazement. "You have really, really long legs," Julie volunteered in an exaggerated tone.

"What?" Lee's mouth flew open in protest. "My legs?" Immediately he braced his hands on his knees and gave his bare limbs a once over.

Amanda laughed behind her hand, provoking an annoyed glare from her partner. For all his good looks, he was very sensitive when it came to comments about his legs. "They really are okay," she mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

"I think they're very nice legs," Jenny chimed in, bobbing her pigtails up and down.

"Well, thank you." Lee shot Amanda an 'I told you so' look.

"Jeez," Phillip said with disgust. "This isn't a beauty contest. Let's go."

Amanda gave a short wave. "We're still missing two kids. I'll round them up and join you on the dock."

"Make sure everyone wears swim suits," Lee called. "You, too, Amanda."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at the unlikely entourage. Never in her wildest dreams would she imagine herself sharing childcare duties with Lee Stetson and Bryce Topping. The way things were going, it would be just her luck for Francine Desmond to be put in charge of their swimming and boating activities.

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Amanda pulled a white sleeveless blouse over her one-piece sleek, black swimsuit, while she weighed the merits of using a cover-up. Maybe she'd just leave the shirt unbuttoned for the short walk to the waterfront.

To her chagrin, she felt a bit shy about wearing a bathing suit in front of Lee. It was ridiculous really because she was proud of her slim and toned body. In the company of anyone else this wouldn't be an issue at all. However, today under the watchful eye of her colleague, she couldn't quite shake the images of the voluptuous women Scarecrow often chose for his dates.

Looking in the mirror, she shook her head at the silly speculation. "Snap out of it, Amanda," she told the tall, pensive brunette who stared back. "Lee Stetson will never notice what you're wearing, much less care."

Thoughts of their recent cover kiss once again warmed her skin. While she couldn't put their steamy encounter out of her mind, she was certain he'd easily dismissed the entire episode without a second thought. Of course, it was nothing special to him. The man has probably been kissed more times than an Arabian sheik with forty wives.

Slipping on her sandals and sunglasses, she grabbed a beach towel and suntan lotion on her way out. The screen door banged behind her as she beckoned to the Kelly siblings who were waiting for her on the cabin stoop. "Ready?"

The bashful children nodded and quickly fell in step by her side.

The Kelly kids would be an interesting challenge, she surmised, noting the serious demeanor of ten year old Sean and nine year old Colleen. They seemed like ducks out-of-water in their coke bottle eye glasses and outdated swimwear. There were no funky tie-dye t-shirts or colorful sneakers for the Kelly kids.

The twosome were early-birds at Camp Harmony by virtue of their Uncle Pete's job. For whatever reason, they were spending the summer with the camp manager and his wife. As the children of staff they'd have many opportunities to participate in camp activities. Hopefully time spent in the wilds would bring them out of their shells.

Nearing the waterfront, Amanda felt her heart skip a beat. "Oh, no," she mumbled, catching sight of the ruckus on the boat dock. From the look of things, Lee and Bryce were losing the battle of kids versus boating safety.

"I don't need one," Brian insisted, taking off his life jacket just as fast as his father could put it on him.

Jamie shook his head and refused Lee's offer of help. "The jacket's too big. You gave Phillip the smaller one." The boy grabbed his brother's arm, trying to force a trade."

You can't have it, dork face," Phillip said, dangling the bright orange object out of reach.

Lee snagged the life jackets from both boys and neatly made the switch. "Phillip, don't call your brother, dork face."

In a hopeless effort to keep up with all their charges, Lee and Bryce turned their attention to the twins. Both girls tried to run, but were instantly caught by the two male trappers.

"It's scratchy," Jenny screamed, crying real tears when Bryce secured the life jacket to her torso. Unhappy, but compliant, she finally accepted the intrusive object with only a few more soft whimpers.

Julie was decidedly more difficult. She held her arms tightly against her body, so Lee couldn't secure the device around her tiny frame. "It's ugly," she wailed, as he wrestled the jacket over her head. Pulling away from his grasp, she fell with a thud on her backside. "Now look what you did. I'm telling Mommy."

"Go right ahead," Lee challenged, reaching to set the defiant child back on her feet.

Amanda rushed to intervene. "Here, let me," she offered, a hair too late.

"Ouch," Lee yelped as Julie's shoe made contact with his shin. "Damn it, you little monster.

"For a brief moment, time stood still. Then Bryce sucked in a breath, the boys laughed, and Amanda sighed. It took all of her strength to bite back a scathing reprimand for the errant adult.

"You said a bad word," Jenny scolded, shaking a small finger under his nose.

"Skip didn't mean it, did you Skip?" Amanda bent to inspect Lee's injured limb. "I think it's going to bruise," she said, running her fingers along his red shinbone."

"Amanda, please." He quickly backed away from her touch. "I'm fine."

"And?" Amanda nodded her head toward the children. "And, I'm, ah, sorry."

Suddenly a loud whistle blew, and Francine marched onto the dock, wearing a bright yellow sweat suit and a Martha's Vineyard baseball cap. "Freeze," she hollered, as if she was about to round up several enemy agents.

"Freeze?" Amanda rolled her eyes. "Francine, they're children."

"It doesn't matter." The blonde pointed to the boys. "You, you, you, and you get those floatation devices on, right this minute. Skip, you help them. None of the kids will go boating without life jackets. Got it?"

"Aye, aye, captain." Lee saluted and the boys followed suit. No one flinched as the assistant director slipped the jackets over heads and secured the straps in place.

Francine lined the girls up in a row, frowning at the sniffling twins. "We'll have no crying here," she said as she fastened Julie's life jacket. "Boating isn't for babies. One more whimper and you're out of here."

Jenny wiped her tears and reached for her sister's hand. "Okay."

Without a word, Colleen inched away from the group and began to retreat from the dock.

"You, in the glasses," Francine snapped. "No one leaves without permission."

The child froze, and Amanda moved to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It will be fine, Colleen. You stay with me, okay?"

Bryce stepped next to Amanda. "Our lifeguard looks familiar. I believe we saw her at Chez Tayir. Wasn't she the one bossing everyone around after the restaurant shooting?"

"Oh, no, I don't think she's the same person." Amanda's heart sank. Leave it to Bryce to recognize Francine. He didn't get to be a top Washington D.C. lawyer from pure luck. God help them if he recognized Lee, too.

Francine blew her whistle again. "All eyes, front and center. Amanda, you and your friend can take the girls in rowboat number two. Skip, you get the boys in boat number three."

Lee appeared none too happy. "Hey, I could use another adult here." He shot Amanda an anxious look. "Maybe Mrs. King would like to ride along with her sons."

"Request denied," Francine said, slamming the door closed on further discussion. "I'll go with you. The boys will be on their best behavior. Right, boys?" They all nodded solemnly, fully cognizant that they had met their match in the female lifeguard.

Lee knelt on the dock and untied the boat, pulling it securely against the piling. Then, grabbing the bow with his large hand, he beckoned to Sean. In the midst of easing the boy onboard, immature male egos sprang to life. Three wiggly bodies pressed against the wide Stetson back, all vying to be next in line.

"Get back," Francine shouted to the King and Topping boys, but the warning was too late.

As Sean stepped down, he stumbled, and the boat began to rock. Lee lost his grip on the bow, and the little vessel began to drift.

"Oh, God." Lee leaned forward, stretching his body to the limit. In the nick of time, his hand again found purchase, and he somehow managed to steady the boat.

Amanda envisioned what was coming with the certainty of a clairvoyant. "Be careful," she called, with growing alarm.

Lee teetered in place, half his body on the dock and half hanging over the water. With impeccable timing, childish exuberance got the upper hand. At the worst possible second, a stampede ensued as eager boys leaped passed him, scrambling for coveted seats. In their wake, the boat pulled from Lee's hand, and he plunged off the dock into the drink.

"Aaaaah," came the gasp from the crowd. Everyone froze in place and held a collective breath.

Finally resurfacing, Lee stood-up in the shallow water, allowing his full six feet, two inches of height to loom over the boat like a monster from the deep. The dark scowl on his face was a testament to the Herculean effort he made to hold a string of expletives in check.

He was a sight to behold. With seaweed dangling from his ear and water dripping from the tip of his nose, he quickly won the delight of the crowd. The children clapped and laughed uproariously.

The dynamics made Amanda cringe. Clearly the kids were out-maneuvering the adults. Lee was glaring at the boys as he pulled the boat back to the dock. Francine was blowing her whistle like a tugboat lost in fog. Bryce was standing motionless, apparently rendered speechless by the comedy of errors.

Amanda was left as the lone voice of reason. She wanted to rush to Lee's aid, but he'd only be more humiliated. "Boys, you need to apologize to Skip," she admonished in her best parental tone. Her words floated on the wind, failing to penetrate the preoccupied minds of the four mischief makers.

The Stetson patience was sinking fast when Lee climbed the ladder and stomped across the dock. While wringing out his camp t-shirt and pouring water from his shoes, he was treated to the gallant heroics of the honorable Mr. Topping, who now seemed determined to one-up the assistant director.

Looking dapper in his beige Dockers, blue polo shirt, and deck shoes, Bryce poured on the charm for the fair ladies in his care. Using a voice, thick with an exaggerated southern drawl, he delighted the girls with syrupy compliments as he coaxed them toward the boat. The little darlings were soon behaving like beguiled females. Compared to the hooligans that Lee had to handle, they were sugar and spice and everything nice.

Amanda saw the green-eyed monster emerge from two flaring nostrils and intense hazel eyes. Lee's unhappiness was so evident that Francine poked him in the ribs with her elbow and said, "sit on it, Skip."

He huffed so loudly, even the boys nudged each other and snickered.

Bryce was the perfect gentleman as he deftly assisted Amanda into the boat and handed in each giggling girl. The group of females couldn't have looked more serene if they were rowing on Walden's pond in white eyelet dresses and matching sunbonnets, shaded by pink parasols. Bryce definitely came out the winner in this arrangement.

Francine lowered herself into the bow of the boys' boat. Looking like George Washington crossing the Delaware River with his troops, she pointed toward the peninsula. "We're headed for Shady Point," she directed. "Don't tip the boats."

"Race, you," Phillip yelled. "Come on, Skip, let's beat the girls." Lee's strong arms propelled them from the dock, and the boys cheered.

Bryce grumbled as he wrestled the oars into their locks. "Hey, some race. We aren't even out of the gate yet."

Amanda did her best to captain the crew. "Just a little to the left. No, not the right. Left."

"Would you rather row?" Bryce snapped, exhibiting a new unpleasant character trait. With an uneven stroke, his oar jerked upward and splashed the passengers with cold salty water.

The girls responded with screams and protests.

Blotting her face with a towel, Amanda tried to sooth his male pride. "Now you've got it. Just straighten it out a little. That's it. You're getting it."

"Are we almost there?" Julie asked in a grating petulant tone.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Jenny whined, with impeccable timing.

Even Colleen was mumbling quietly in the stern of the boat. "By the time we get to Shady Point, it will be time to come back."

"Have patience, girls," Amanda said, putting on a positive face. It was going to be a long morning. The Stetson rowing crew had definitely left them in their wake.

* * *

><p>Better late then never, Bryce rowed the ladies ashore at Shady Point. By then, Lee had the boys swinging from a tree like a group of chimpanzees. A long rope, tied to the gnarled limb of an ancient oak tree, dangled over the bank. It was the perfect vehicle to launch the kids into the swimming hole.<p>

With Francine supervising the ruckus from the deeper end, Lee manned the human missiles from the shore. First Phillip and then Brian took turns flying through the air. Imitating Tarzan, the ape-man, the boys bellowed a call of the jungle and dropped to the water with a huge splash.

"You're next," Lee said, beckoning to the reticent Sean. Plucking the glasses from the boy's face, he set them on a log and handed over the rope. "You can do it, pal." When no protest was forthcoming, the youngster was given a big push. With eyes wide open and legs flailing, he swung through the air and let go at just the right moment.

That left one timid boy on shore. "It's you're turn, sport," Lee said, as he boosted Jamie up on the rope and pulled him back over land. "Are you ready?" he called, before letting go. When the child shook his head, Lee didn't move. "It's okay," he said with calm control. "I'll do it with you." Grabbing on, he placed his hands above Jamie's, leaned his muscular frame behind the skinny torso, and pushed them off the bank. Sailing over water, Lee gave the signal. "Jump," he yelled, as first the man and then the child plunged below the surface.

Coming up for air, Jamie emerged spitting and sputtering. Lee was quickly beside him, engulfing the boy in his strong arms. "You okay, sport?"

Jamie coughed once more and then laughed. "Hey, that was fun. Let's do it again."

Amanda smiled to herself. What happened? Somewhere out on the bay, the tense Lee had embraced his lost youth and found camaraderie with the boys. She'd have loved to witness their male bonding. Whatever caused the transformation, she accepted it gladly. The day was certainly full of surprises.

Bryce interrupted her reverie. "The rope looks old. Do you think it's safe?"

"I hope so." She shook her head in wonder, giving Lee the benefit of the doubt. He'd have checked it out carefully. "I'd hate to be the one to spoil all the fun."

Right on cue, Chuck Harper's rowboat came into view. The waterfront director waved his arms and blew his whistle. Clearly he wanted the kids off the rope.

"Party's over," Lee said, as he moved the boys toward shore.

"Aaaaah," the kids protested, but they didn't have to be told twice. Obediently, they followed their leader.

Francine shrugged her shoulders and waded through the water. If she was afraid of being chastised by her superior, it certainly didn't show. At least not yet. When she reached the shallow end, it was evident her bathing suit left little to the imagination. While the top of her one-piece was within the margin of acceptability, the high leg effect of the bottom was definitely pushing the limits of decency.

More than ready to defend the camp's best interests, Amanda handed Francine her sweat suit and a towel. "You look cold," she said, managing to keep a straight face.

Francine glared at Amanda. "If you think I'm going to 'frump it up' for the rest of the week, you're sadly mistaken." Snagging the towel, she wrapped it around her trim waist, not even trying to appear innocent. "There, are you satisfied?"

"Good idea," Chuck said with a wink as he rowed ashore. "We have to keep our camp image up to standards." In all his hairy and muscular splendor, the tall, dark, and handsome lifeguard jumped from the boat and neatly pulled it ashore.

Amanda shook her head at the incongruity. On the one hand, she enjoyed the view of two bare-chested men - especially the smooth athletic build of her partner. On the other hand, she recognized that women were necessarily held to a higher standard of decency at a children's camp.

Obviously the camp policy annoyed Francine, but it was perfectly acceptable to the modest suburban mom. Whatever sexual freedoms women won in the Sixties' decade of change and upheaval, they seemed of little consequence to Amanda. By choice, she'd missed the revolution.

"Okay, folks," Chuck called, motioning everyone toward a circle of logs. "It's time for a short session on rules and regulations."

Standing in front of his captive audience, Chuck Harper was definitely in charge as he laid out the boundaries. He flung the rope out of reach in a high limb, assigned each child a swimming buddy, and pointed out the trail to the lighthouse on the bluff. "The building is locked, except for the bathrooms. You can explore around the outside, but don't go out on the rocks. If you stand by the grove of trees, you can take some great pictures."

"No one brought cameras," Brian said, shooting his dad a dejected look.

The shyest of the group managed to raise her hand. "Sean and I have a camera." Colleen took an out-dated box camera from her rolled up beach towel and held it up for all to see.

Suddenly the quiet twosome were the most popular kids in town. "Hey, way to go," Phillip shouted, pumping his arm with enthusiasm. "Maybe you can take pictures and send us copies."

"Let's go," Brian yelled, jumping to his feet and prompting the other children to race after him.

"Stay in sight," Chuck cautioned the group.

Amanda didn't hesitate. "I'd better keep an eye on the kids."

Lee and Bryce rose together. "I'll go with you," they said in perfect harmony. Each one gave the other a wry look, but nobody backed off.

"The more the merrier," Amanda offered, wondering if babysitting the children might work better alone. From the way the two men were behaving, they would end up being more hindrance than help.

* * *

><p>The little party broke through the trees to the sudden spectacle of the immense lighthouse. Immediately everyone stopped in their tracks and craned their necks as they studied the cylindrical black and white edifice with the red glassed-in lantern room at the very top. The sheer majesty of the building rendered the group mute as they gazed up in awe.<p>

Amanda couldn't help but smile. She felt like one of the six inch tall Lilliputians who discovered the shipwrecked Gulliver on their island, in the book "Gulliver's Travels." "Okay, gang," she announced. "Look around, but stay off the rocks."

Amanda, Lee, and Bryce held court at the foot of the lighthouse, while the children used the rest rooms, took pictures and played tag. Listening to the two strong-willed men volley for alpha male status, Amanda remained quietly neutral, keeping a watchful eye on the kids.

"So, tell me Skip, are you in law enforcement?" Seemingly out of the blue, Bryce's question blindsided his companions. Immediately he commandeered their full attention.

The muscle in Lee's jaw twitched, but he kept his cool. "Law enforcement?"

Amanda studied her feet. She should have warned Lee of Bryce' suspicions, even though she didn't see this coming.

"Well," Bryce continued, "you and Francine Redmond look familiar. I could have sworn the two of you were at Chez Tayir the night some guy riddled the place with an automatic weapon."

"An automatic weapon?" Lee managed to appear appropriately horrified. "You've got to be kidding."

"No, in fact, one of my clients told me there were feds all over the restaurant that night. Seeing you and Francine together today brought back memories."

"That's quite a leap," Lee protested. "We come from entirely different backgrounds. . . ."

Suddenly a commotion from above interrupted the interrogation, and three heads jerked upward.

"Hey, everyone, look at us." Jamie and Sean waved from a window, about halfway up the lighthouse tower.

"What the devil?" Lee caught Amanda's eye. "Damn it, they shouldn't be up there."

"I thought it was locked." Amanda beckoned to the boys, leaving no doubt to her intent. "Come down from there, right this minute."

They ignored her. No sooner did the two disappear from view when three more heads appeared in the window. "Hello, Mrs. King," shouted Colleen, Jenny and Julie, in their sweet, high pitch voices.

Lee moved directly under the window and cupped his hands. "Girls, turn around and start back down."

Without an answer, the children ducked back inside.

Things immediately went from bad to worse. Suddenly, Phillip and Brian waved from the top catwalk. The eldest King boy hollered a greeting. "Hi, Mom. Hi, Skip. Hi, Mr. Topping."

"Boys, get off of there." Amanda tried to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Brian, you're treading on thin ice," his father warned, in a tone that brooked no foolishness.

Phillip dangled a long cylindrical object in his hand. "Mom, we found flares."

"I think they're firecrackers," Brian called. "There's a lighter, too. Can we set them off?"

"No," Bryce shouted, visibly shaken.

"Oh, my God." Lee was off and running, and Amanda was right behind him. Rushing into the lighthouse, they took the spiral staircase at a breathless pace.

"Do you think they found the dynamite?" Amanda asked, panting with every word.

"Hell, yes." Lee grabbed for her hand. Pulling her behind him, he led their ascent, round and round the dark passageway, as they made their way to the top of the tower. By the time they emerged onto the cat-walk, all the children were leaning on the railing.

"Stay calm," Amanda whispered to his back.

Lee nodded and took a breath. "Okay, gang. I want everyone to step away from the railing and put your backs against the wall of the lighthouse."

"Why?" Always the first to object, Phillip didn't budge and neither did anyone else. He crossed his arms against his chest, still clutching his dangerous discovery.

Amanda stood next to Lee. "Sweetheart, just do what Skip told you." She swallowed hard, recognizing the objects in Phillip's hand as two of the missing sticks of dynamite.

Lee inched forward, securing each child against the lighthouse wall. "Phillip, I need you to hand me your 'flares' very carefully."

"Okay." More timid now, the eldest in the group did as he was told.

"And where is the lighter?" Lee asked, motioning toward the Topping boy.

Brian jerked it from behind his back, flicking it open perilously close to the dynamite.

"No," Lee shouted, immediately pulling back. In a flash, he whirled around, cocked his arm and threw the sticks of dynamite out to sea, not even checking to see if Brian had managed to light a fuse. Thankfully, they dropped harmlessly into the water.

The children's eyes grew wide with surprise as Amanda sagged against the wall in relief. Seeing Lee struggling to rein in his emotions, she confronted the boys. "Never, never try to light a fuse to anything," she said with a firm but even tone. "Firecrackers, flares, whatever - they're all dangerous. Do you understand?"

Phillip and Brian nodded mutely, still not clearly grasping the danger they had inflicted on everyone.

Sean seemed to catch on first. "They weren't flares, were they?"

"Just playing it safe, pal." Lee blew out a breath and bent in front of Phillip and Brian. "Now, I need to know where you found the 'flares'."

"They're at the top of the tower, near the signal light," Brian said, pointing with his finger. "There's a whole bag of them."

"I'll show you." Phillip made a move to go, but Lee stopped him with a firm tug on his arm.

"No, chief." He locked eyes with Amanda, and they exchanged a shared sentiment. "First, we get you kids down to the ground."

Suddenly Bryce appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of worry. "What's going on?" he demanded, with too much bluster.

The twins started to cry. "I'm scared," Jenny sobbed, moving away from the wall.

Lee intercepted her and scoped her up in his arms. "Bryce, would you carry Julie?"

"Sure," he said, picking up the other pixie. Putting a hand on his son's shoulder, his stern look gave the boy fair warning. "There are consequences for your actions, young man."

"Bryce, not now," Amanda whispered, dismayed that the cool-under-fire lawyer took such an inopportune time to discipline his son.

Lee motioned to the boys. "Guys, get in line behind Mr. Topping. He'll lead you down the stairs."

"Mom," Jamie whimpered. Pulling away from the others, he leaned into his mother. "Is the stuff going to explode?"

"Shush," she said, wrapping an arm around him. "Everything is fine. We just want you off the catwalk."

Amanda reached for Colleen's hand, but the child seemed frozen in place. "Let's go, sweetie," she coaxed, but there was still no response. She sighed and looked at Lee. "How are we going to get her down?"

"Colleen," he called, but there was still no answer. The girl was too terrified to move. Lee knelt and shifted Jenny to his back. "Hang on tight," he said, as she wrapped her legs around his torso and held his neck with a death grip. Placing a hand on the older girl's shoulder, he nudged her toward the door. "Colleen, both of us will hold onto you, okay?"

The girl remained mute, but she set her feet in motion. With Jamie in the lead, and Lee bringing up the rear, Amanda clutched the child's hand and guided her down the narrow metal staircase. She announced each step in the painstakingly slow process.

"Step down."

"Step down."

"Step down."

The sound of their footsteps echoed noisily through the damp tower, as they carefully made their way to the bottom.

Finally setting their feet on land, they were met by Francine and Chuck, running up the path to the lighthouse. Apparently the two lifeguards had already been alerted by Bryce and the others.

"What's going on?" Chuck demanded, his dark features contorted with concern and anger. "I thought all of you knew the lighthouse was off limits."

"Save it, buddy." Lee set the squirming Jenny on her feet and pulled the traumatized Colleen against his side. "Our biggest concern is getting the kids back to camp."

Francine was immediately elbowing Amanda, silently searching for some kind of explanation.

"The children found the stash of dynamite," Amanda whispered in a raspy voice. "They nearly got themselves killed."

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The rowboats bumped against the pilings of the camp dock as the little group returned to safe harbor. Thank God they were back with everyone who embarked on the trip to Shady Point.

Lee secured the oars and sighed heavily. His mind still reeled with the images of the children at the top of the lighthouse. One wrong move and they'd have all been killed. Wordlessly, he raised his eyes and glanced at Amanda in the neighboring boat. Certainly she could read the enormity of his feelings with just one look.

She nodded with understanding, offering a small smile to bolster his confidence.

Lee felt his heart quicken as he sought solace in her beautiful brown eyes. He also saw in her gaze the resolve to carry on. No doubt about it, she was his touchstone. With the wisdom of a sage, the soul of a saint, and the grit of a pioneer, Amanda King would guide him through the quagmire of Camp Harmony.

They still had their work cut out for them if they hoped to secure the peace camp event. For the moment, only Amanda and Francine shared his knowledge of the explosives. Bryce and Chuck were kept in the dark with vague details of flares and a dangerous catwalk.

"Okay, gang, let's hop to it," Amanda called to the children as she jumped from Bryce's boat onto the dock. "Everyone head straight for the dinning hall. You'll get your marching orders there."

"I'm cold," Jamie complained. "I want to change my clothes."

"We all do, sport," Lee agreed, assisting the boys from the boat and turning his attention to Chuck. "Maybe you and Bryce should get the kids inside. The ladies and I will be right along." When the others were out of earshot, Lee turned to his cohorts. "Let's make this quick. It appears the orientation has ended, and Brandi is making her way toward us."

"You're not planning to bring the camp director into the loop, are you?" Francine's doubtful look conveyed her clear reservations.

Lee brooked no argument. "On the contrary, I need to confront Brandi. However, I want to question her, not deputize her."

"Fine, but I'd better notify Billy," Francine added. "He should be relieved that the dynamite was found before someone set it off."

"You'll have to drive over to the mini-mart to place the call. Be sure to tell Billy we need a team at Shady Point, ASAP." Checking his watch, Lee was shocked at the time. "God, it's almost noon. The day's getting away from us, and we're no closer to identifying the culprits. We can't have another 90 kids showing up here tomorrow unless everything is under control."

Francine was already moving off the dock. "I'll make sure Billy knows."

"Tell him that I'll go back to the peninsula and meet him there," Lee called after her. "I don't want agents crawling all over the camp."

"You've got it." Francine broke into a jog as she hurried toward the parking lot, her brilliant yellow sweat suit lighting up the campground like a neon sign.

Lee put his hand on the small of Amanda's back, hoping to provide emotional support. It was obvious her worry over the children was weighing on her mind. "Are you okay?"

"I'm still a little rattled," she said, wringing her hands. "You know, I don't consider myself a smothering kind of mother. I'm a hands-on parent, but I don't hover. I have boys after all. You have to expect some scrapes and cuts and the occasional black eye."

"Absolutely."

"But, you'd think I'd have learned a thing or two by now. I'd barely been a parent for a month when I turned away for a second and saw my first born fall off the changing table. Thank God, I caught him by the foot. Another time, when I was on the phone, Phillip fed a handful of Flintstones vitamins to his brother. I had to call Poison Control over that lapse in judgment. Then there was the day I accidentally shut Jamie's fingers in the car door. Lee, he was only four years old."

"Hey," he said, running his hand up and down her forearm in an effort to calm her. "You're a great mother. . . ."

"Not today," she countered in a huff. "At a critical moment, I allowed myself to be distracted. I was chatting outside the lighthouse when all seven kids went inside and nearly got themselves killed. Gosh, Lee, I've been at the Agency for two years and nothing has scared me as much as seeing explosives in the hands of children." Finally pausing, she bit her lip as unshed tears pooled in her eyes.

He shook his head with self-incrimination. "I was there, too, and it's my job to keep all of you safe. Amanda, I can't tell you how sorry I am . . . ."

"No! Don't be sorry," she said, quickly pulling herself together. "Lee, you did everything exactly right. You stayed calm, threw the dynamite into the ocean, and guided terrified children to safety. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," he said, studying his feet. "I couldn't have managed without you at my side." Clearing his throat, he enfolded her into his arms. Any witnesses be damned. He needed to give a hug as she surely needed to receive one.

Briefly she melted into his embrace and then shyly stepped back. "Thanks, Lee. You know exactly how to make me feel better."

His arms felt useless as she pulled away. "Listen, Amanda, maybe I should talk to Brandi alone. I don't want her knowing you're Agency."

"Okay, I need to check on the children anyway." Momentarily locking eyes with his, she started off the dock, just as Brandi approached.

Like a wild game hunter, the scowling Miss Litchfield appeared cocked, ready and loaded for bear. "I hope someone has a plausible explanation," she said, her gaze including the departing Amanda and the unmoving Lee. "You brought the children back in a dither, Bryce Topping never made it to orientation, and now Francine Redmond has left the campground. Do you always stir up so much trouble?"

Lee waved Amanda on and turned his attention to Brandi. "Well, if you'll calm down, I'll bring you into the loop. There are some serious issues we need to discuss, but not here in the open."

"All right." Brandi seemed taken aback by his tone, but she nodded her consent. "Come to my office. I'll make sure we are not disturbed."

"Fine," Lee agreed, steering her off the dock with his hand at her elbow. "How much time do we have before we eat?"

"Lunch is at twelve-thirty." Her eyes raked over him, registering disapproval. "Maybe you need to shower and change first. You shouldn't enter the dining hall looking like the lone survivor of a shipwreck."

"Later," he said, stepping up their pace. "Cleanliness will have to get in line behind national security."

"National security?" Brandi's mouth flew open in surprised.

He refused to say more until they reached the privacy of her office. "Lock the door," he instructed as she closed it behind them. Immediately he clasped his hands behind his back and started to pace.

She quickly secured the door, but then turned on him. "Just who are you, and what's really going on here?"

"I'm a federal agent," he announced abruptly, deciding to give it to her straight. "I'm investigating a terrorist plot to disrupt the peace camp."

"Oh, no." Her face blanched as she sank into a chair, but she didn't try to affirm or deny his claim. "What did you discover?"

"Not me - the kids. They found dynamite in the top of the lighthouse." Lee stood over her, bracing his arms on the desk. "We almost lost seven innocent children today."

"Dear God," she said, shaking her head in obvious despair. "That's awful."

Lee spared her no mercy. "Now, we're going to have federal agents around here in another hour or two. So, if you know anything, you need to fill me in right here, right now." To his surprise, she nodded silently. "Well, I'm waiting," he said, throwing the full weight of his Agency authority behind his demand.

Finally Brandi looked at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "I think the threat may have something to do with my brother."

Lee sat down, his poker face firmly in place. "Then tell me; who the hell is your brother?"

"His name is Patrick O'Grady."

"My God, the IRA terrorist?"

"It's not what you think," she said, waving her hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm not involved in my brother's activities."

"I'm listening."

"I was born Brianna O'Grady in Belfast, Ireland. Patrick is my older brother. He's Paddy to me. When I was eight years old, and he was seventeen, our father was gun down right before our eyes, by Irish Protestant terrorists."

"I'm sorry," Lee said, his throat convulsing with raw memories of his own childhood horrors. There was no denying the pain in her eyes. He knew exactly what she was feeling. He'd lost both his parents at a tender age, but thankfully he hadn't watched them die.

Brandi looked at him with vacant eyes, her voice barely a hollow whisper. "Paddy wanted revenge and my mother wanted safety. She arranged passage for all of us to go to the United States, but he refused to cooperate. He wanted to join the Irish Republican Army. Ma and Paddy had a huge argument on the dock when she tried to make him board the ship. He slipped away at the last minute, and we ended up sailing without him. They never spoke again."

"So, what happened to you?" Lee struggled to keep his voice even, determined to hear her whole story.

Brandi abandoned her chair and went to the window, as if searching for someone who wasn't there. "When I was nine years old, my mother married Samuel Graham Litchfield, III. He was successful, generous, and very much a southern gentleman. Best of all, he loved both of us and proceeded to adopt me soon after their wedding. There was only one request he asked of us."

"And that was what?"

"That we never try to see Patrick O'Grady again. My stepfather wanted nothing to do with Northern Ireland terrorists. My mother was heartbroken, but her loyalty to her husband took precedence over the sadness of never seeing her son again."

"What about you? Did you try to see Patrick?" Lee's hands flexed impatiently by his side. He could guess what was coming.

"Yes," she finally said, with a hint of righteous indignation in her voice. "Of course, I did. He was my brother, and nothing could change that fact. When I finished college, I traveled to Northern Ireland, against my parents' wishes. It took awhile, but I finally tracked him down, and he agreed to meet with me."

"So how did your visit go?"

"I was shocked." Brandi shook her head with obvious regret. "The kind, sweet boy of my early childhood had hardened into a fiercely angry adult. He was passionate about the claims of the IRA and dared me to contradict him about anything related to his actions. The best I could offer him was my continued love, but I made it clear that I would never embrace his cause."

"You were what - twenty-two? How often have you seen him since your first visit?"

"I contacted him when Ma died two years ago. He came to Virginia to see me, but it was done very discretely. No one else knew."

"Have you been in touch?"

"Not until last week. Out of the blue, he just showed up here." Crossing her arms tightly against her body, she looked as if she was trying to shield herself from a lifetime of hurt.

Lee cleared his throat, wanting to give her every opportunity to separate herself from the reputation of her brother. "You need to tell me exactly why he came to Camp Harmony."

"Next week is the 25th anniversary of our father's death. Paddy wanted to mark the occasion with me."

"And, I suppose, he wouldn't be satisfied with putting flowers on a grave?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Paddy wanted to make a political statement in honor of Pa's sacrifice. You see, my brother is against the peace talks between the Unionists and the Nationalists. He fears whatever terms are negotiated will demand the total surrender of the IRA."

"I guess he isn't very big on peace camps for Irish children."

"No, he's not," she said, sighing audibly.

Lee slapped his hand against the desktop, frustrated that a camp director put personal feelings ahead of security. "Brandi, why didn't you notify the authorities? You could be brought up on charges for aiding a known terrorist."

"Skip, I am not harboring a terrorist. I warned Paddy if he didn't leave the camp, I'd be forced to contact the police."

"And you didn't know that he was planning to disrupt the peace camp?"

"Of course not, I'd never let that happen. I've been doing peace camps for years and never had a problem with my brother or anyone else."

"Well things are different this year," Lee said with renewed anger. "Someone on staff may have worked with your brother to hide the dynamite. Apparently the intent was to blow up the lighthouse. If O'Grady didn't involve you, then who teamed up with him?"

"I don't know," she said with an air of certitude. "Skip, you have to believe me." Her frightened eyes begged him to accept her story.

He shook his head, trying to remain objective. "I want to believe you, Brandi, but it's very hard."

Nodding, she returned to her chair. "Are you planning to take me to jail?" Her slender frame sagged under the weight of her predicament. All the bravado had gone out of her usually inflated ego.

Lee felt torn by warring emotions. She could be a gifted liar or an innocent victim. "It's not up to me, Brandi, but I'll share what you've told me with my colleagues. I'm sure my superior will be talking to you this afternoon."

"So what do I do now?" she asked in a small voice.

Reaching for her hand, he helped her from her seat. "For now, let's just go to lunch and act as if everything is fine. However, like it or not, I'm obligated to keep tabs on you. When you aren't with me, you'll need to be with Francine."

"You mean she's a federal agent, too?"

"Yes, she's one of the best."

* * *

><p>In one quick hour, Lee managed to shower, change into jeans and a sweatshirt, grab a sandwich on the run, and brief Francine about Brandi's revelation. He wanted to bring Amanda up to speed, but she was sitting at a table with Dotty and the boys. He had to settle for catching her eye as he headed out of the dining hall.<p>

It wasn't long after rowing back to Shady Point, that the Agency team arrived by speedboat. To Lee's great relief, Billy came onshore with Duffy and Leatherneck. He couldn't help but grin at the sight. The notorious conservative dresser had managed to shed his three piece suit in favor of a more campy look of khaki pants, a plaid shirt, and an Orioles baseball cap. A tired looking pair of white Reeboks completed the ensemble.

"Hey, you fit right in, Billy."

"Don't start, Scarecrow. Leatherneck and Duffy have teased me for the entire trip."

Leatherneck laughed. "Yeah, we tried to convince him to wear shorts like us, but he refused."

"Listen up, people," Billy said, motioning for his team to come closer. "All right, Stetson, what have you got?"

"You'll find the dynamite at the top of the lighthouse." Lee pointed the way down the path for the two agents and then directed his superior to a circle of logs around a campfire pit. "Let's step into my office and get comfortable," he said with a grin.

"Thanks," Melrose grumbled, dropping his bulk onto a low log. "So, what's your professional opinion, Scarecrow? Should we pull the plug on the camp?"

"We certainly have more than enough reason to shut it down."

Billy nodded. "Fortunately, you've solved the mystery of the painted lady."

"Yeah, with a fresh coat of black and white stripes and a bright red peak, the lighthouse fits that description perfectly."

"Good work, Scarecrow. You located the explosives in plenty of time." Melrose slapped him on the back in affirmation.

Lee hung his head, reliving the nightmare in slow motion. "Actually, Billy, the kids found the dynamite and a lighter. Seven children almost died, including Amanda's sons. It scared us half to death when we spotted them waving the sticks around like toys. Thank God, we got to them in time."

"Jeez, Lee. That's awful." Billy watched him thoughtfully, a look of shock on his face. "How's Amanda holding up?"

"She's pretty upset. Other than a few words, we've had little opportunity to talk to each other."

"I see." Melrose removed his hat and mopped his bald head with a handkerchief. "What else have you got for me?"

"Plenty. It seems our camp director, Brandi Litchfield, is the sister of Patrick O'Grady."

The section chief's brow furrowed in surprise. "You're kidding?"

"Not on your life. She volunteered the information when I confronted her about the dynamite."

"She's hot, Scarecrow. We need to bring her in now." Billy shifted uncomfortably on the log, but couldn't quite make it to his feet when he struggled to get up.

"Relax, Francine's with Miss Litchfield." Lee shook his head, rehearsing his doubts about the camp director's guilt. "I'm not so sure that Brandi's involved at all. She claims to be totally in the dark about her brother's activities. He did surprise her at camp last week, but she sent him away. I think she's telling the truth, Billy."

Melrose's dark eyes pinned him in place. "Is this Scarecrow, the professional, talking or Lee, the enamored? I understand she's quite beautiful."

"Thanks a lot, Billy." Lee picked up a stone and threw it into the woods, venting some of his pent-up frustration. God, did everyone have to make him feel like some kind of tomcat? "Look, I'm not interested in Brandi, if that's what you're worried about. However, the woman seems very dedicated to the camp and hardly knows her brother at all. She was raised in the United States by her mother and stepfather. Please, just talk to her and see what you think."

"All right. I'll listen to what she has to say." Finally rising from the log, Melrose stretched out his shoulders and back.

Repressing a grin, Lee picked up Billy's baseball cap, dusted it off, and handed it to his boss. "Is there any word on Patrick O'Grady yet?"

"We're still trying to confirm it, but our New York operatives have airport tapes showing a man of O'Grady's description boarding a flight to Northern Ireland."

"Chalk one up for the camp," Lee said with relief. "However, keep in mind that Amanda claims there were two people outside her cabin discussing an explosion. If one was O'Grady, the other one was either Brandi or someone else here at camp."

"Yes, and we need to find that person. We can't give a green light to the peace camp, until we have ever detail covered."

"Sounds like a long shot." Rising to his feet, Lee rubbed the ache in his backside.

Melrose nodded knowingly and pointed at the seating. "We need to get you new office chairs, Scarecrow. Those things are as hard as logs."

At that moment, Leatherneck and Duffy came hurrying down the path with a duffle bag in tow. "We've got the goods, boss," Leatherneck called. "The dynamite was just waiting for someone to light it."

Melrose looked in the bag and shook his head. "Did you also dust for prints, etc. etc.?"

Duffy nodded. "The whole works."

"Fine. Now I'm going over to the camp with Stetson. You two search the area, while I check out a suspect. When you've safely handed off the explosives at the marina, cruise on over to the camp dock. I think we'd better fingerprint the staff and anyone else who was here before Friday. We'll have to be discrete. We don't want the volunteers in a panic."

"Got it chief." Leatherneck gave a half salute as he turned on his heel and headed down the path with Duffy bringing up the rear.

Lee beckoned toward the rowboat. "Sir, your Agency limo awaits."

* * *

><p>The remainder of the day went by in a blur. Billy interrogated Brandi, and the camp staff was fingerprinted under the guise of a new security measure for the international event. It was also confirmed, through surveillance tapes and passenger lists, that Patrick O'Grady had boarded a flight to Belfast International Airport on Friday.<p>

By nine o'clock in the evening, the Agency team had clear evidence. Fingerprints on the duffle bag were a definite match with those of Frankie McGuire, the still "wet behind the ears" teenage lifeguard. Even at eighteen, the kid had the vocal cords of a boy soprano and the baby face of a prepubescent male.

With the camp settling in for the night, Lee and Francine approached the dock where a solitary figure sat forlornly by himself. The glare of Lee's flashlight signaled their approach. "Frankie, my boy, may we have a word with you?"

"Why?" The poor kid looked ready to bolt. "I didn't do anything."

"Take it easy," Francine said, putting her arm around Frankie's shoulders. "Just come along nice and easy, and we'll sit down in the camp office and have a little chat."

"It wasn't my fault," the teen blurted out, obviously ready to spill his guts. "I just wanted to earn a little dough, see. Some dude at camp asked me to store some explosives in a safe place. He said it was needed for a special camp project. I figured it was none of my business." His words reached a fevered pitch as he tried to make his break.

The escape went nowhere. The kid ran smack into the brick wall of Scarecrow's chest. "Sorry to do this to you, Frankie," Lee said, snapping handcuffs into place. Then grabbing the teen's arm, he pulled him to his feet. "I don't like this either, but we have to take you in for questioning." With a firm nudge, Lee got the boy moving toward the lodge.

Melrose waited on the porch, ready to lead the little group into the office. "Take it easy, son. We just want you to look at some pictures and explain a few things."

"Yeah, I bet," Frankie answered, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Billy laid an assortment of photos on the table. "Does anyone look familiar to you?" Frankie didn't hesitate. "This guy," he said, motioning toward the picture of Patrick O'Grady.

Francine put on her best smile. "Why don't you tell us how you know the gentleman," she said in a soothing tone.

The teen began to relax. "I don't actually know him. The man told me he was Brandi Litchfield's brother. He hung around camp for a couple of days and offered me some cash to hide some dynamite."

"Dynamite," Lee said, in a tone remarkably more harsh than his counterpart. "And that didn't scare the hell out of you?"

"Ah, no, I guess not," the kid mumbled with a shrug.

Lee leaned in closer to the boy's face. "Well, did Brandi know about the dynamite?"

Frankie tilted his head away from the intrusion. "No, not at all. The dude didn't want her to know."

"And why couldn't Brandi be told?" Francine smiled innocently, playing the role of the good cop to perfection.

Frankie jutted out his chin. "Miss Litchfield doesn't believe in the cause."

"What cause would that be?" Francine asked, shifting her eyes toward Lee.

The boy shrugged. "I dunno - just a political cause. He wanted to remind the world that peace won't bring a united Ireland. No one was going to be hurt."

Lee grabbed the boy by his shirt. "Look, sonny, we're talking about explosives here. You could have blown this place to Timbuktu."

Frankie's hands began to tremble. "I already told you. The explosion was just going to be for show. No one would be killed. If you were Irish, you'd understand."

"No, buddy, I don't understand," Lee said, the muscle of his jaw twitching with anger. "You're talking about terrorism. . . ."

"All right. That's enough." Melrose stepped between them and motioned for calm. "Let's have a word on the porch." Leaving the boy with Duffy, Billy led Lee and Francine outside.

All three leaned against the porch railing, ready for a verdict.

Billy spoke first. "I'm going to take Frankie in for more questioning, but we need to make a decision about the camp before I leave. It's already ten o'clock. Is there reason to call the whole thing off, or do we have sufficient evidence to give the camp a green light?"

"I say it's a go," Lee said. "The kid didn't implicate the director. I think she's innocent."

"I have no logical reason to point a finger at Brandi," Francine agreed. "Overall, it looks like the threat is over."

Billy nodded in agreement. "Okay, here's the deal, people. The camp can start as scheduled, but on one condition."

"Condition?" Lee and Francine spoke in one voice and looked at each other with dread.

"Yes," Melrose added. "You will remain on staff for the entire week. Camp Harmony needs security for the peace camp, and you two are already in place."

"Billy!" Lee took the lead in the field agent revolt. "You can't possibly expect us to spend a whole week at camp."

"Sir," Francine said, joining the protest. "I didn't pack for seven days. Maybe I could go home overnight."

"No excuses, people. That's my final verdict. Francine, the Agency will send more clothes. Lee, I'll get you more insect repellant. The mosquitoes seem to be eating you alive, man."

"Please, don't remind me," Lee said, suddenly aware of the itchy welts on his neck. "We'll deserve combat pay after a week of being assaulted by kids, bugs, and over-zealous do-gooders.

Melrose shook his head. "This is Camp Harmony, people. Try to enjoy the tranquility."

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Amanda stood by the cabin window, watching the cloak of night slowly settle over the quiet campground. Only the haunting call of a Whippoorwill interrupted her reflective mood.

She'd been nervously pacing all evening, waiting for the final verdict on the camp. Hopefully, Lee would show up soon and fill her in on the details. It was hard to be out of the loop, but she'd dutifully gone through the motions of being fingerprinted and playing the clueless camp volunteer.

She only knew what Francine had told her at lunch - Brandi had confessed to having a brother who was a known terrorist. With that stunning revelation, the chances were slim to none that the peace camp would take place as planned.

"Come sit down, darling," Dotty called from the kitchenette. "I've made tea. We'll have to take advantage of the quiet time before our college cabin mates return from town."

"They'll probably be late getting back. It's their last night of freedom before camp starts." Amanda took a seat on the worn sofa and tried to focus on her mother's favorite topic. She'd been prattling on about the merits of Bryce Topping for the better part of an hour.

Dotty handed over a mug of tea. "Darling, do you agree with any of my observations about Bryce?"

"Of course, Mother. You're absolutely right. Bryce is intelligent, charming, successful and a wonderful father. And, yes, he's solid marriage material."

"And don't forget handsome. My word, he has great hair, and he barbeques, too. It's only a matter of time before someone snaps him up."

"He even claims to have fixed a kitchen sink," Amanda said, humoring her mother's obsession. "Domestic skills are helpful, and good hair is a must. He'll make a terrific husband for someone."

Dotty set her cup down and leaned closer to her daughter. "So, what are you waiting for, Amanda? Opportunity only knocks once. Here you are, sharing a lovely week of camp with Bryce, and you're letting a golden chance pass you by. Men need a nudge. You have to be pro-active if you want to jump-start a romance."

Amanda rolled her eyes, wondering how she could jump-start a romance with Lee. "Camp is a beautiful romantic setting. You're right about that, Mother, but I'm not sure I want to pursue Bryce."

"Well, look around you. There are any number of available men here. Chuck Sawyer is certainly worth a second look. He's tall, dark, and handsome, and he's the strong leader type. Goodness, he even resembles our favorite private eye."

Amanda laughed. "I've noticed."

"And then there's Skip. Granted he seems a bit shy and awkward, but there's something about Mr. Stanton that makes you want to take care of him. Maybe all he needs is a woman's touch."

"I beg your pardon." Amanda choked on her tea.

"Well, his clothes were rather rumpled. I suspect he slept in them. And, of course, some barber did him a major disservice when he shaved off most of the poor man's hair."

"Well, Mother, Skip is at camp. He doesn't need a stylish haircut or a three piece suit."

"You're right, dear. Skip may knock um dead, in the real world."

"You never can tell about people," Amanda said, trying not to smile. "They're never what they seem to be."

"Oh, speaking of Skip," Dotty announced abruptly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Really?" Amanda tensed as she felt a rush of panic course through her body. What was coming next? "You know, maybe it can wait, Mother. I think I'm going to get ready for bed."

"This will only take a minute." Dotty rummaged through her knapsack. "Loretta says Skip left a brochure in the kitchen."

Amanda reluctantly accepted the proffered pamphlet. "Oh," she said, in a raspy voice. "This is the brochure for I.F.F. I wonder how Skip got a hold of one. I didn't bring any to camp."

"Well, according to Loretta, Skip works for International Federal Film."

"What a coincidence."

"Isn't it though." Dotty drummed her fingers against the table, her brain apparently in overdrive. "How is it possible that Skip is a film maker for I.F.F., and you never mentioned him?"

Amanda's mind worked feverishly, trying to stay a step ahead of her mother's speculation. "Well, for starters, I.F.F. employs a lot of people."

"Darling, it's not possible to fit a lot of people into that little Georgetown office?"

"Well, you see, if Skip is a film maker, he probably travels all over the world. Many of our film people contract for special projects."

"I see. Then you think he is an independent movie maker?"

"Yes, very independent."

"Hmm." Dotty peered over the rim of her reading glasses as she reached to reclaim the leaflet. "That must explain the absence of a wedding ring. He probably has a girl in every port."

"At least. The Skips of the world aren't the marrying kind."

"Maybe that's why they call him Skip. He must skip out on every female he meets."

"You're probably right, Mother. The man must break a lot of hearts."

"I think I'll scratch Mr. Stanton's name off the list. You already paid your dues with the traveling kind."

"The list?"

"Well, not really a list." Dotty looked insulted. "Darling, I'm just trying to be helpful. After all, I've had more experience with men. My suggestions may produce results."

"I know you mean well," Amanda said, resigned to her mother's matchmaking schemes. "But you don't really need to burden yourself with my dating life."

"What dating life? All you do is work, work, work. Your boss wants you at his beck and call every hour of the day and night. Dear, you're never going to find a suitable partner if you spend all your time at that sweat shop."

"Mother, I love my job."

"That's well and good, dear, but you can't snuggle up to a job when you're cold, or tired, or in need of hug. Your boss isn't going to assign you the 'love of your life' as a fringe benefit."

Amanda reached for her mother's hand. "Don't you worry. I haven't given up on finding love again."

"Thank you, darling. I needed to hear you say that." Dotty offered a kiss and then rose to go. "I think I'll turn in ahead of you, Amanda. Pleasant dreams."

"Goodnight, Mother. Sweet dreams."

A light tapping on the window caught her attention. Looking up, she saw the man of her dreams motioning for her to join him outside.

"Hey," Lee said, as she opened the door.

Amanda placed a finger against her lips. "Shush, don't let my mother hear you." Stepping out on the porch, she graced him with a smile. "Some things never change. You're still peering in my windows, huh, Stetson?"

"I thought you'd find the tried and true routine a comfort tonight." He slipped an arm around her waist as they sat down on the top step. "How are you doing?"

She waved her hand back and forth in a gesture of uncertainty. "I'm okay."

"Where are the boys?"

"They're bunking in Bryce's cabin tonight. He managed to keep them busy hunting lizards, turtles, and other camp creatures. All things considered, they seem to have recovered from the lighthouse scare pretty quickly."

"Well, that's a relief." He paused for a beat and then cleared his throat. "It gets better. Billy gave the green light for the camp to proceed as planned."

"Really?"

"You bet. It seems our baby-face lifeguard, Frankie McGuire, got mixed up with Paddy O'Grady."

"Oh, no, not our sweet Frankie."

"I'm afraid so, but he was manipulated for sure. Paddy was the real threat. Fortunately, O'Grady was seen taking a flight back to Ireland. The coast is clear, and the camp is a go."

"And is Brandi in the clear?" she asked, still feeling a nagging twinge of doubt.

Lee studied her for a beat, a guarded look on his face. "Yes, she was cleared. What's eating you now?"

"I'm not sure." Amanda nervously ran a finger over the rough wood of the step, weighing the validity of her concerns.

Lee's arm tightened around her. "Well, I can't promise Utopia, but you can rest easy about security. Francine and I will be onboard for the entire week."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Gosh, I can hardly believe you and Francine agreed to stay."

He laughed. "Well, in truth, Billy had to do a little arm twisting, but he's right to provide protection. Now the campgrounds will be safe; so relax and have fun."

"You make everything sound so simple," she said, nursing a lingering fear. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Just like that, you believe parents can breathe a sigh of relief, children can sleep snug in their beds, and peace can reign on earth."

"Whoa," he said, his body stiffening in protest. "I can't believe you're still worried."

She sighed softly. "Well, I can't believe that Brandi's still here."

"A-man-da," he gritted out between clinched teeth. "I don't know why you're so hard on poor Brandi."

She shook her head. "Don't forget, Lee, I was the only one who had real concerns about Miss Litchfield in the first place."

"Granted, you were right. Brandi was keeping a secret. Having a brother who's a terrorist is a big deal, but that doesn't make her a suspect."

"Lee, I'm sorry, but I still don't trust her." Amanda's voice dropped to a whisper. "If anyone around here is a painted lady, it's Brandi. In my opinion, she wears too much make-up for camp. Besides, it's not just her hairdresser who knows she colors her hair."

"Hey, stop right there." Lee's tone was thick with exasperation. "Come on, give the woman a break. The mystery of the painted lady has been solved. It turned out to be the freshly painted lighthouse. It all makes sense. Blowing up that baby would have made one hell of a political statement."

"Well, if you ask me . . ."

"And I don't," he said curtly. "Billy, Francine, and I are all in agreement about Brandi."

Hurt and frustrated, Amanda turned her eyes away from his gaze. "So, Brandi's story checked out perfectly?"

"Yes." He lifted her chin in his hand. "You're going to have to trust our judgment."

"But, Lee."

"Amanda, everything will be fine."

"I'm sorry, but my instincts tell me things aren't fine."

"Hell, I need more to go on than your gut feeling."

"I don't have more, Lee." Amanda inched away, widening the space between them until he reclaimed his arm.

Sitting in awkward silence for several minutes, Lee finally took the lead. "I hate to say it, but I'm beginning to wonder if you're jealous of Brandi?"

"What?" The edge in her voice could cut granite. "I'm not a jealous person?"

He sighed heavily. "Just forget it, Amanda."

"No, I'm not going to forget it," she said heatedly. "My reservations about Brandi have nothing to do with your fondness for Miss Litchfield."

"My fondness?" Like a match to parched woodlands, his temper ignited. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you do like her, don't you? I mean, of course you like her - she's blonde, beautiful, bright, and bubbling with personality."

He jumped to his feet, pumping a fist in the air. "Damn it, why does everyone make assumptions about my personal feelings?"

"I can't speak for anyone else, but I think Miss Litchfield is very skilled at blindsiding people with her charms - including you."

"Hell, now you're being ridiculous." With hands on his hips, he stood like a stone statue, glaring at her.

She glared back at him for a beat, before reining in her temper and rising from the steps. "You're right, Lee. I'm probably being too cautious. Of course, Mr. Melrose, Francine and you know what's best. I'm sorry I mentioned it." Abruptly, she turned on her heel and started for the porch.

"Wait," he said, moving closer, trying to take her hand.

She pulled away. "Lee, it's been a long day. I'm exhausted."

"Fine, then. I'm going."

"Fine."

"Well, I guess, I'll see you tomorrow." With that he started down the path, never bothering to wave or look back.

She watched him go, regretting that they'd butted heads again - something they were very good at doing. More often than not, they were at odds over one thing or another. She'd had more fights with Lee in the two years they'd been acquainted, than she'd ever had with Joe in ten years of marriage.

Maybe it was a good sign. Joe's brooding silence was always a marital sticking point. At least, with Lee, issues were brought out into the open. Once tempers boiled over, they could calm down and clear the air. It wouldn't surprise her at all, if Lee turned around and came back.

Once he'd had a chance to blow off steam, he was usually quick to forgive and to make amends. Joe, on the other hand, wanted to forget a disagreement as soon as it was over, leaving absolutely no opportunity to discuss solutions to persistent problems.

"Stop it Amanda," she chastised herself as she headed inside and closed the cabin door. Knowing a person through work was not the same as being married. Comparing Lee to Joe was totally irrelevant.

Methodically, she turned out the lights and headed for bed. Soft snores stated the obvious. Mother was sound asleep. Thank goodness.

Slowly, Amanda undressed in the darkness of her bedroom. Then pulling a nightgown over her head, she stood by the window, hoping for one last sighting of her irascible partner.

Lee was still out there; she could feel it. Her eyes followed the pathway where it led to the swimming and boating area. The orange glare of the lone pole lamp silhouetted the tall figure standing on the dock.

Amanda smiled. Most certainly Lee was still mulling over every detail of their fight. She knew him so well. The man would never go to bed, not until he figured out how to make things right between them.

Leaving him to his thoughts, she went to brush her teeth. Maybe she'd read for awhile and keep an eye on him. Quite possibly, before she fell asleep, he'd need to talk.

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lee paced the dock like a caged tiger. Each pounding step fueled his anger to the breaking point. Damn it. Amanda King certainly was adept at punching his buttons. How in hell did things get so complicated between them?

All he really wanted to do was get passed her defensiveness and return to the old chemistry of their comfortable relationship. And maybe explore an emerging chemistry, too, his mind argued. The cover kiss had plagued his senses since he left the craft cabin last night.

They'd definitely awakened dormant feelings that had been ignored for far too long. Thoughts, still in their infancy, challenged the status quo of their two years together. Were they on the cusp of something bigger - something that would affirm a growing attraction? Scarecrow and Mrs. King were definitely approaching dangerous territory.

Lee didn't have a clue how to proceed. He slapped his hand against his thigh, venting his frustration. Some things were best left alone. Pursuing a romantic relationship with Amanda King ranked high on the list of hazards to avoid - right ahead of jumping off cliffs, swimming with sharks, and wrestling alligators. It was just too risky to even contemplate.

They had a good thing going. Why mess with it? Adding a new ingredient to their carefully honed working relationship and satisfying friendship was a recipe for disaster. They could ruin everything they'd so painstakingly created together.

Wallking briskly from one end of the dock to the other, Lee broke a sweat, despite the chill in the night air. He'd have to find a way to release the tension, or he'd never sleep tonight. Looking out at the inviting water, he made a decision. A swim might be just the right therapy to sooth the savage beast of his tangled emotions.

He hesitated briefly, remembering the strict camp policy against swimming alone. The rules be damned, he thought. After all, he was a strong swimmer, and no one would ever know.

In one fluid motion, he pulled his sweatshirt over his head. Almost immediately, Mother Nature began to work her magic. He sighed in relief as the light breeze caressed his taunt muscles and dried the perspiration that clung to his neck and back. Stretching out his arms, he flexed them back and forth, trying to work out the knots in his shoulders and ward off a tension headache that was settling like a heavy rock on the top of his skull.

The gentle lapping of the bay beckoned to him. Quickly stripping down to his under shorts, he piled his clothes on the dock and eased himself into the water.

He gradually let his body adjust to the chill, slowly walking out deeper and deeper, until his shoulders dipped beneath the surface. With a heavy sigh, he tried to relax into the buoyancy of the water, waiting for his energy to return. Then turning on his stomach, he began to swim laps with smooth, strong strokes, back and forth, parallel to the shoreline. First he powered through the water using the freestyle stroke, and then he alternated between the breaststroke and the backstroke. In a word, it was invigorating. He felt the tension drain away as he kept up the rhythmic motion.

After fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, he paused to tread water and gage his surroundings. God, how had he lost sight of the camp? Maybe he'd been swimming for longer than he thought and drifted further out than he'd intended. Apparently, in his attempt to relax, he'd blotted out his location and nature's sudden change.

To his surprise, a cloud cover now totally engulfed the moon, and a heavy mist settled over the bay. Erratic wind gusts caused the choppy water to swirl around him. The air temperature was definitely colder. He felt goose bumps form on his shoulders and arms. It was clear, he had to keep moving to stay warm, but which way to go had him completely stumped. There was no visible sign of the shoreline.

Counting in his head, he swam forty strokes in one direction and then paused to discern his location. He saw nothing - just more water everywhere. Changing direction, he swam sixty strokes the opposite way and prayed he'd see land. Over and over, he tried to get his bearings, but there was no sign of the camp. By now he was cold, tired, and definitely alarmed. "What a stupid stunt, Stetson," he chastised himself. "You'll have hell to pay, dead or alive."

Lee dove down toward the murky bottom, hoping to discern the slope of the sandy floor. God, the water was really deep. When he returned to the surface, he gulped in the needed air to his burning lungs. He must be way out, where the bottom just dropped off. How was he suppose to tell which direction was shore and which direction would propel him further out into the bay?

"Stay calm," he reminded himself as he treaded water in a circle. "Help," he called again and again. Maybe, just maybe, someone was out wandering the campground.

Straining his voice until it became a hoarse whisper, he finally decided it was useless. Who was he kidding? Hell, all of civilization had disappeared from sound and sight.

In a surreal moment of alarm, he began to fear for his life. He could quite possibly succumb to hypothermia, and no one would be the wiser. Exhaustion was weighing him down, and he was too cold to simply float on his back. He was out of options.

Suddenly, he thought he heard a voice. Surely it was his imagination. Then he heard the sound again. "Skip. Skip."

The voice continued to beckon to him across the bay, guiding him toward land. "Skip, are you out there?"

The words were his salvation. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, renewing his energy. Frantically, Lee started swimming toward the call, straining to close the distance between the threatening bay and the protecting camp.

Gradually, he began to make out the dim glare of a single light pole on the dock. Getting closer still, he could see the form of a person, keeping vigil in the night. It had to be Amanda. Who else would instinctively know he was in trouble? Like a nymph rising from the deep, she summoned him to safety. Her very presence gave him the strength he needed to swim toward camp.

"Skip, Skip, she called, urging him on. Dressed in a billowing gown and waving a flashlight, she continued to guide his way.

With his destination in sight, he felt his energy wane. So close, yet still so far away, he feared he didn't have the stamina to make it to safety. "Amanda," he called, waving his heavy arms as he faltered in the water.

Her response was immediate. "Hang on." She must have understood his predicament, because she promptly lowered herself into a rowboat and pushed off from the dock. "I'm coming," she called. "Just hang on."

Straight as an arrow, Amanda set her course to his side. Long minutes passed, but finally she was there, securing the oars. Setting the flashlight on the seat, she directed the beam toward him. "Lee, let's try to get you into the boat."

He grabbed for the stern and held on, weighing his need for safety against the foolish risk of tipping the boat.

Amanda had no such reservations. Quickly she crouched low, her capable hands gripping his armpits with a strength that belied her slight frame.

In a daze, he attempted to throw a foot over the flat end of the boat. After several tries, he felt her hands grab his leg and pull with all her might. Amazingly, she managed to heave him over the edge. Before he could stop himself, the momentum brought him crashing down on top of her.

For a few seconds, no one moved as the little boat rocked violently back and forth, threatening to dump them both overboard. Water slouched over the sides, adding to the distress. With their bodies wedged between the seats, there was little wiggle room to reposition themselves.

Finally he felt her hands push against his chest as she struggled to get out from under him. "Lee," she gasped, "are you all right?" True to character, her first concern was only for him.

Lee shook his head, trying to discern any pain through the numbness of the cold. With great effort, he managed to shift his frame off her legs, freeing her from his weight. What a predicament. He'd certainly played havoc with her dignity, but she bore it all without complaint.

She moved the light closer to his face, looking him over with the urgency of an emergency room doctor. "Sweetheart, can you talk? Are you okay?"

Sweetheart? The very sound brought comfort to his misery. It was Amanda's favorite word for everyone she held dear. It spoke of caring and belonging, home and family, and now it included him. "I'm okay," he whispered, his voice raspy from the ordeal. Of course he was okay. Lee Stetson had been okay since the day he'd slipped her a package at the train station, nearly two years ago.

With obvious relief, she enfolded him in her arms, moving her hands over his back like he was a small child. "Gosh, Lee, I almost lost you."

"I know. I know. Thank God, you came." He returned her embrace, moved by her concern and comforted by her touch. He needed her more than he'd ever needed anyone. Did this wonderful woman have any idea what she meant to him? "How did you know to come looking for me?"

"I watched you, Lee. It's my job to watch your back." She slowly broke their hold, but took his arms in her hands, rubbing them up and down with vigorous motion. "We have to get the blood flowing. Is that better?"

"Yeah, thanks," he whispered, feeling a gapping chasm as she moved away from him. Immediately the coldness filled the empty space between them. Shivering, he hunched his long frame into a ball and tried to endure the wind on his back.

Amanda continued to encourage him as she took the helm of the boat. "Take it easy, Lee. Just relax and catch your breath." She labored under the burden of the added weight, but nonetheless, began the arduous task of rowing them to shore.

Lee sat with his head in his hands, sucking in great gulps of air and waiting for his sluggish body to energize. Finally, feeling more himself, he knew what he had to do. He couldn't just sit still and watch Amanda struggle.

"Make room," he ordered, trying to muster the strength to help. Keeping low in the boat, he settled next to Amanda. "Let's row this thing together."

"Oh, okay," she said, sliding over a bit as his bulk brushed against her side in the tight space.

Without seeing her face, he knew she was blushing. My God, she was in her nightgown, and he was in his boxer shorts. Their skimpy attire left little to the imagination, but thankfully the dark of night wrapped around them like a shroud. Now if they could just make it back to shore without being seen, the whole unfortunate episode would be behind them.

"Hellooooo," voices called from the camp.

"Great, just great," he groaned, letting our an exasperated breath. "The jig is up."

"Oh, my gosh. We can't be seen dressed like this. Quick, do something."

"Like what?" He felt her body stiffen beside him. Panic couldn't be far behind. "I hope you don't expect me to jump back in the water."

"Lee, they will think we were . . ." She shielded her head with her hand. "Well, you, of all people, know what everyone will think."

"Thanks a lot," he growled. "Damn it, just give me the oar. You have us rowing in circles."

"Fine - you're on your own." She abruptly abandoned her seat and moved toward the stern. "This is what I get for doing a good deed."

"Amanda, I really am grateful for your heroics, but maybe next time you could throw a coat over your nightgown."

"Me? Look who's talking. Whatever possessed you to pull a stunt like this, huh? If I'm going to have to save you, then I expect you to be decent."

"I am decent," he growled, tugging on the oars with a jerk. There was nothing like a fight with Amanda to pump-up his energy.

On the dock, a line of lights searched the water. There was no telling how many people were waiting to rescue them.

Amanda continued to grumble as she nervously tapped a foot against the side of the boat. "How am I going to explain this if Mother finds out? She'll never let me hear the end of it."

"I think you underestimate your mother," he answered, gritting out the words between clinched teeth. "She'll probably chalk it up as a social opportunity. After all, she enjoys any number of gentlemen friends. I doubt that they're all Bridge partners."

"Honestly, Lee," Amanda said with a loud huff. "Despite what you think about my mother's liberated views, she always held me to high standards."

"Hell, Amanda, you're mother knows you aren't the type to sneak off and meet a guy for an assignation."

Amanda groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Lee, may we please drop the subject."

"Fine, it's dropped."

Approaching the dock, they could now make out the welcome committee. Brandi, Chuck, and Francine stood with their arms folded, ready to read them the riot act.

Leave it to Francine to put first things first. "A little underdressed for a dinner cruise, aren't you?" she said, tossing him his clothes.

The garments landed squarely in his lap, and he shot Amanda a look of apology. "I'll handle this," he whispered.

She sat with her arms crossed in front of her, holding the bodice of her nightgown tightly against her breast. "Remember, this was all your fault."

"Do you have any idea how many camp rules you broke tonight?" Chuck's voice was filled with contempt as he reamed them out like a Marine Corps drill sergeant. "Whatever possessed you to take out a boat after dark and without a lifeguard on duty?"

Brandi stepped forward to offer her two cents worth of reprimand. "Mrs. King, I'm surprised at your attire," she said with proper indignation. "You of all people appreciate the dress code at this camp. And, Skip, I don't care how much authority you think you have, you can't just dismiss camp regulations when it suits your whim. We have to live up to the stellar reputation of Camp Harmony, so any fling you're having will have to take place off camp property."

"We are not having a fling," Amanda defended, jumping to her feet and rocking the boat.

"Well, you two fooled me," Brandi said, with stern censure. "Given the rumors circulating the camp, I suspect tonight wasn't your first rendezvous with Mr. Stanton."

Francine laughed. "Oh, please, give me a break. Anyone can see that Mrs. King isn't the type to have a fling with Skip Stanton or anyone else."

Amanda's mouth flew open in protest. "Excuse me?"

Lee yanked on her hand, encouraging her to sit back down. "Hold it, hold it, people. Just back off, okay. If any demerits need to be handed out, then I accept them all. It was my fault. I went for a swim. Amanda thought I might be in a little trouble, so she rowed out to get me."

"A little trouble?" Amanda pinned Lee with an incredulous look.

He placed a finger to his lips. "Shush."

"Don't shush me." Ignoring the captive audience, Amanda glared at Lee, and he returned the favor.

Chuck tied the boat to the dock and extended his hand. "Come on out of there, Mrs. King. We'll give your boyfriend a little privacy while he gets dressed."

"Mr. Stanton is in no way, shape, or form, my boyfriend," she corrected as she climbed from the boat, her hand carefully protecting her modesty.

Brandi looked her up and down. "I'm sorry, Mrs. King. You can imagine how torrid this looks."

"Yes, well, I thought Skip needed help. Taking time to change my clothes was the least of my concerns."

"Of course, dear," Brandi said, laying a hand on Amanda's arm in understanding.

Lee finally managed to tug on his pants. Then, with shirt in hand, he pulled himself to the dock. "I accept full responsibility," he declared in a gravely voice. "I made a stupid decision to swim alone. Apparently Amanda observed me entering the water and rushed to my aid when she thought I was in trouble."

"Okay, fine," Chuck said. "Mrs. King is off the hook. Amanda, you can head on back to your cabin while we give Skippy-boy a crash course in camp rules and regulations."

"Let's take this to the lodge, shall we?" Brandi motioned the interrogation team in the opposite direction.

Lee paused and touched Amanda's arm. "I really am sorry. . . ."

Before he could finish, the glare of another flashlight announced one more witness to the crime.

"Amanda, darling, are you all right?" Dotty was hurrying toward the dock in her bathrobe and slippers. "I heard the commotion and noticed you were gone." With motherly concern, she reached to embrace her offspring. "Oh dear, your nightgown is soaked. Did you fall in the bay?"

"No, Mother. I didn't fall in the water." Amanda tried to step away from the parental scrutiny.

Looking from her daughter to Lee, Dotty did a double take. "Oh, my goodness. Were you two skinny dipping?"

"Mother!" Amanda shot Lee a look that could sink a battleship. "See what you started," she hissed between her teeth. "You owe me big time, Buster."

"Buster? I thought his name was Skip." Dotty gave Lee another careful once over. "Actually I don't think either name suits you."

"No, ma'am," Lee said inanely, looking like a scolded teen-ager as he withered under Dotty's probing gaze.

Amanda inserted herself between the two of them. "Mother, I know how this must appear, but you have it all wrong."

"Then, darling, what is the brouhaha all about?"

"Mrs. West, there is a perfectly logical explanation," Lee said, feeling like he was once again making excuses for his unorthodox behavior to yet another protective parent with a beautiful daughter.

Dotty crossed her arms in front of her. "This better be good."

"Stanton, are you coming?" Chuck called from the pathway.

Lee looked helplessly at his partner and started backing away. "Sorry, I've got to go. Amanda, you can explain it to your mother."

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Clear blue skies and bright sunshine welcomed the official start of camp. By Sunday afternoon, staff and volunteers took to their roles like sand settling on dunes. A state of calm ushered in high hopes and bold expectations for the long awaited peace camp.

Amanda stood among the greeters as campers filed from the bright yellow school buses. Hesitant children, ranging in age from nine to twelve, surveyed the campgrounds. Their expressions were a mixture of wonder and fear. Whatever carefree days they'd enjoyed in the homes of American host families, the memories of their dangerous homeland were still evident on their wary faces.

Eager counselors stepped forward in welcome, breaking the ice with smiles and helping hands. By the time they marched their charges toward the cabins, the new arrivals were warming up to the strange surroundings.

With the initial hubbub dying down, Amanda felt at loose ends. Her mother was working with the kitchen crew to prepare Sunday dinner. The boys were with their assigned cabin groups, and Lee was tied up with assistant director details. By all appearances, he was joined at the hip with Brandi for the registration of campers. It appeared Miss Litchfield was keeping him on a very short leash.

Last night's rescue mission seemed little more than a distant memory. Lee certainly appeared none the worse for wear, and he failed to mention their midnight encounter when she saw him briefly before breakfast. His casual nod and crooked grin held no hint of the drama they'd shared in the grip of the crisis. In the blackness of night, she may have been a welcomed port in the storm, but in the light of day, she was just another face in the crowd.

Amanda shook off her obsessive reflection. Lingering fatigue was making her emotions spiral out-of-control. If she'd gotten a better night's sleep, instead of rehashing everything in her head for hours, her mood would be considerably better. Regardless, she found it impossible to ignore the myriad of feelings Lee Stetson had incited in little more than 36 hours at Camp Harmony.

Over one weekend, the man had aced any number of tests. Good with Kids - check. Caring with her boys - check. Concerned about her feelings - check. Magnetic attraction - check, check. Last night's rescue had confirmed all evidence of their mutual chemistry. When they were thrown together in a crisis, the sparks flew between them. The fates must have had something more than espionage in mind when Scarecrow and Mrs. King crossed paths at the train station on a cloudy October day in 1983.

"Hello, darling."Like a rooster at sunrise, Dotty West's voice startled her from her daydreams.

"Mother, when did you get here?"

"Dear, I've been standing beside you for the last ten seconds. You seem to be lost in some pleasant thought. Why on earth are you blushing?"

Amanda ran a finger around the neckline of her shirt. "It's going to be another 'hot one', isn't it, Mother."

"What's hot, darling? Certainly not the weather. I find it rather chilly."

"You're right, Mother." Amanda led her toward the dining hall. "So, how did you earn a 'get out of jail free card'? You told me Loretta Merkel ran her kitchen like a prison guard at San Quentin."

"That woman," Dotty said with a huff. "She thinks I take too many liberties with her recipes. Her idea of a dollop of whip cream on each serving of gingerbread is so miniscule, you'd need a magnifying glass to see it. You'd think I'd raided the National Mint when I added a little extra."

"Mo-ther, I hope Loretta didn't fire you."

"No, I'm not fired. Let's just call it a cooling-off period. She's too short of help to keep me on suspension for very long."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "I hope you're free to eat dinner with me."

"Do you miss the boys, dear?"

"Yes, of course. However, I'm afraid Phillip feels too big to hang out with his mother. It's just not cool."

"And what about Jamie?"

"He'd be my little shadow if his counselor didn't insist that he sit with some members of his cabin group. I'm afraid Jamie's having a hard time adjusting to sleep-over camp."

"He'll be fine, Amanda. It's not like he can't see you everyday."

Joining the others on the lawn, Amanda and Dotty waited for the dinner bell. At five o'clock, a tall figured emerged from the lodge and reached toward the rusty metal triangle with a large ladle. "Come and get it," he yelled as he repeatedly clanged the old camp relic. Remarkably, Lee seemed at ease in his role. Maybe the countless military mess halls of his nomadic childhood had somehow groomed him for this moment.

Walking with the crowd through the double doors, Amanda observed the hesitancy in some of the smaller children. Their pinched faces registered homesickness. Maybe she could bring them some comfort by joining them for a meal. "May we sit here?" she asked a subdued group of children who quietly sat at a table for eight.

Five heads nodded with consent, so Amanda and her mother took two of the remaining three seats.

Pointing at the last chair, the boldest of the five spoke up. "Save a chair for the cruiser."

"The cruiser?" Dotty asked.

Amanda nodded. "The cruiser is the person who will wait on our table. Today it will be a staff person. The rest of the week, the children will take turns."

"What's your name," a husky, blue-eyed boy inquired.

"I'm Amanda King, and this is my mother, Mrs. West."

Dotty patted the hand of the child next to her. "Now tell us your names."

"Bobby," the first one shouted like a "Mouseketeer" from the "Mickey Mouse Club." Then pointing around the table, he introduced the others - "Michael, Dennis, Kathleen and Megan."

"And, Skip," a deeper voice supplied. "I'm your cruiser."

There stood Lee, looking, for all intent and purposes, like he'd been rescued from Gilligan's Island. A rumpled white sailor's cap adorned his buzz cut, and a 35 mm camera hung from his long, muscular neck. The cover was complete with faded, bell-bottom blue jeans and a red and white striped polo shirt, that was a size too small. There was virtually no chance that Dotty West would ever connect this character to any Lee Steadman, Lee Sampson, or Lee Stetson she might encounter in the future.

Gripping the back of the empty chair, he leaned closer and whispered near Amanda's ear. "You're not making this easy for me, you know."

Amanda closed her eyes, chagrined at her faux pas. Of all the places to sit in the spacious dining hall, she had to go and choose Lee's table. "Sorry," she mouthed, resigned to making the best of the dinner meal.

Dotty's eyes lit up like New York's Times Square. "Skip, how nice to see you again." She leaned across the table and patted his hand. "Amanda told me everything about your ordeal. I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you, Mrs. West." he said, removing his cap with an exaggerated bow. "I'm glad you could join us." This time, the Scarecrow charm was definitely in place, even if it was a bit over the top.

"So," Lee continued with a wide dimpled grin. "Does everyone like liver and onions?"

"Nooooo," groaned the children in unison.

"Well, I guess we'll have plenty of leftovers for tomorrow's lunch." He winked at Megan, who blushed and giggled. "I'll be right back with the grub."

Dotty's gaze followed Lee as he left the table. "Amanda," she whispered, "you seem rather subdued around Skip. Loosen up, darling. We need to give the man new consideration. He seems more relaxed and fit today. And did you see his smile?"

"Mo-ther, please." Amanda glanced nervously around the table, relieved to note that the children were momentarily occupied. Granted, they were happily balancing spoons from the tips of their noses, but at least they were completely engrossed with their childish game.

The world class matchmaker continued down the same path. "I didn't notice it so much last night, but Skip seems well packaged - tall, straight nose, and great posture. Posture is very important Amanda. You can tell a lot about a man's character by the straightness of his back."

"So, you've told me previously," Amanda mumbled, remembering the handsome Lee Sampson who temporarily moved to Maplewood Drive during the "Mothers For a Safe Environment" fiasco.

Dotty continued with her observations. "I imagine Skip can really strut his stuff in a double-breasted 'Brooks Brothers' suit."

Amanda nudged her mother as Lee approached with a tray of food. "Ssssh, here he comes now."

Setting out dishes of Maryland fried chicken, creamy mash potatoes, buttered green beans, and corn on the cob, Lee took the empty seat beside Amanda and held up a stainless steel pitcher. "Okay, who wants Bug Juice?"

"Bug juice?" the children cried. "Yuck."

"Then milk it is," he said, handing a second pitcher to his neighbor. "Amanda, would you do the honors, please?"

Kathleen propped her elbows on the table and stared at Lee. "Mrs. West likes your back?"

"My back?" A large helping of mashed potatoes missed his plate when his head jerked up in response. "Well, thank you, I guess."

Amanda elbowed her mother. "See what you started."

Dotty wasn't fazed in the least. "I was just commenting on your good posture, Skip. You must be in the military."

"Ah, not exactly. However, I was raised on military bases, if that counts."

"We're you scared?" Michael's quiet voice was barely audible.

Befuddlement etched Lee's facial features. "Scared of what?"

"The soldiers and the guns scare me." The child stopped eating and studied his plate.

Lee cleared his throat. "No, pal. It was safe on the base. I was okay."

"We be scared," Megan said in her sweet Irish brogue. "We have 'The Troubles'."

"Yes, I know. I'm sure that's very hard." He placed an arm around her thin shoulders. "But you're going to be safe with us."

Megan braved a tiny smile and returned to eating.

Amanda caught Lee's eye and smiled warmly. She was so proud of the way he handled himself with the youngsters. He may be an only child, and childless himself, but this man had a natural affection for kids. She wondered what other surprises lurked beneath the depths of his Scarecrow exterior.

When the gingerbread and whipped cream had been eaten and the last of the dinner dishes disappeared, Brandi took the stage and raised her hand. Immediately hands went up everywhere in the room, and voices fell silent. "Welcome boys and girls. We're so glad you're here. Are you having a good time?"

Cheers erupted and everyone applauded.

"Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy Camp Harmony more and more with each passing day. "Do you like to sing?"

Small heads bobbed up and down. "Yes," they called in unison.

"Our assistant director will be leading the singing. Skip, come on up here."

Amanda's mouth dropped open in surprise. She could hear Lee emit a slight groan, meant for her ears alone. "Go on," she said. "We'll be rooting for you."

He plastered on a lame smile and made his way to the stage, giving out high fives to Phillip and Brian who whooped in support when he passed their table.

Making it to the stage, Lee was greeted by Brandi's stellar smile. "Skip Stanton is our 'jack of all trades'." Her thick drawl oozed like maple syrup during a late winter thaw. Handing him a song book, she placed her long fingers on his forearm. "You may pick any song you want, or you may ask the campers to request their favorites."

Lee nervously thumbed through the pages, apparently not thrilled with any of the titles. "How about 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat'," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "It's an oldie but goodie."

Brandi nodded her approval and made her way to the piano.

Dotty cupped her hand next to Amanda's ear. "You know, darling, it may be too late to reconsider Skip Stanton. Miss Brandi Litchfield definitely has her eye on him. They do look good together. I'll grant them that much."

"Mother, please." Amanda slouched lower in her chair. Why did everyone picture Lee with blondes?

The object of their attention missed the first musical introduction. "I'll start again," Brandi called, when he failed to begin on cue.

The second time, he was ready. "Row, row, row, your boat, gently down the stream," the reluctant baritone sang. Standing stiffly with the dog-eared songbook, Lee was halfway through the first verse before he realized no one had joined in. "Hey, don't make me do this alone!" he griped. "I need a little help here, gang."

"Do a round," Brandi encouraged from her seat at the old upright piano. She flashed him a big smile that seemed to give him a dose of courage.

"A round?" he questioned.

"You know," she instructed. "Start off one group of kids and then bring in another group right behind them."

"Oh, yeah, a round." Parading across the platform, Lee started the kids on the right hand side of the room, before shifting quickly and pointing to those on the left. Hesitantly at first, the children joined his efforts. Back and forth, he ran trying to keep the song going.

"I can't hear you," he hollered.

"ROW, ROW, ROW. . . " they shouted as their sweet young voices belted out the song.

Gradually gaining confidence, Lee seemed to find his groove. His easy charm was a natural magnet for the enamored children. With growing enthusiasm and Brandi's steadfast guidance, he led the campers through "Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore," and "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean." By the time they finished "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes," he was hamming it up.

Amanda laughed until she thought her sides would split. During each song, she picked up Lee's camera and snapped some pictures, recording for posterity a once in a lifetime performance. Without proof, Billy would never believe it.

"Tell me I'm dreaming," Francine groaned as she came up behind Amanda. In a rare display of sisterhood, the blonde nudged her arm. "I'm afraid he'll start crooning 'A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall'."

Amanda left her seat to go stand with her colleague by the back windows.

"Well, the man is most certainly possessed," Francine whispered. "This is not Lee Stetson, spy extraordinaire. "The next thing you know, he'll be playing an harmonica and forming a kazoo band."

Amanda watched the unbridled pleasure on Lee's face, realizing the repressed boy of his childhood was finally breaking loose from the shackles of a strict upbringing. Maybe during the week, Lee would provide more healing moments for the shell-shocked kids from the terrorized streets of Northern Ireland.

Finally, the singing ended, and Brandi stepped forward to make the announcements. As soon as Lee walked off the platform and made his way to the back, the grumpy Scarecrow surfaced. "I dare you to make one comment," he murmured to his colleagues. "Just one word and I'll have you scrubbing pots in the kitchen all night."

Francine ignored his threat. "Skip, you were just adorable. Maybe next time you can sing 'The Teddy Bears Picnic.' I bet some of the little campers have stuffed bears you can borrow."

"I'd button it, Francine," he said, glaring at his Agency counterpart. Then turning to Amanda, he offered his all-purpose excuse for any display of emotion. "It was a cover, that's all. There was nothing more too it."

"Excuse me," Brandi called from the stage, looking right at the trio. "Do you have announcements to make?" Every eye in the dining hall turned in their direction.

"Why, yes," Francine responded, neatly covering their tracks. "We need to remind the children to wear shoes on the boat dock. No one goes boating without them."

Amanda piped up, too. "The craft cabin will be open after dinner."

"Don't forget the softball game," Lee added. "There's a sign-up sheet at the backdoor."

When Brandi gave the signal, a hundred metal chairs scraped the concrete floor, and kids scrambled for the exits with their counselors bringing up the rear.

Dotty materialized at her daughter's side, before the little circle of agents could disband. "Darling, I just want to say hello to Miss Desmond again."

Amanda felt her heart skip a beat as her startled colleagues turned to look at the smiling Dorothea West. "Ah, Mother, I think you mean Miss Redmond - Francine Redmond."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry," Dotty apologized. "Miss Redmond how is your chimpanzee?"

Lee's jaw dropped, and he whirled to look at Francine. "Your chimpanzee?"

Mother, ah, I think you might be wrong. . . ."

"Bonzo is fine," Francine interrupted with a smile. "Thank you for remembering."

"Bonzo?" Lee turned to Amanda, a look of complete horror on his face. "What is she talking about?"

"Shush." Amanda leaned closer to his ear. "When Francine showed up at my house last year, I convinced Mother that she was one of my pet-sitting clients. I told her that I took care of Francine's chimpanzee."

"Oh, Amanda," he said with a groan. "And your mother bought it?"

Francine continued to play along. "Are you still making your strudel, Mrs. West?"

"Yes, occasionally. I don't know why, but my daughter won't eat it." Dotty tipped her head and tapped a finger against her chin. "Hmmm, I'm trying to remember the memorable quote by your cook, Moline? Is he known for the phrase 'nothing says lov'in like strudel from the oven'?"

Francine looked puzzled for a moment, before recognition dawned. "Oh, you mean, 'strudel is an act of love.' Moline also said, 'to not eat it is to reject a gift'."

Dotty beamed. "Miss Redmond, you must let me make you some strudel. You never did come by for your rain check."

"I'd love it, Mrs. West."Mercifully, Lee intervened. "Okay, folks, let's get moving. The kids are waiting on the dock. It's time to row, row, row your boat, Francine."

* * *

><p>Nearly a third of the campers wandered into the craft cabin to make friendship bracelets, lanyards, and fancy name tags. Then, after ninety minutes of bustling activity, the children were dispersing - heading over to Vesper Point for songs and stories around the campfire.<p>

Bryce Topping was by Amanda's side from the moment she set up shop. He was a big help as she hurried to keep one step ahead of the eager children. Even more impressive, he volunteered to help her with the clean-up.

The crash of a tin can shattered the calm. Beads spilled onto the floor boards, rolling in every direction. "Oh, no." Amanda sighed and dropped to her knees. "I'm going to be here awhile.

"Sorry, Mrs. King," Brian Topping said, parading through the entryway with Phillip on his heels. "I didn't think I could hit the can with my slingshot."

Bryce was on him in a beat. "Give me that, young man. I can't believe you brought a weapon to camp. Now get down on the floor and pick up every single one of those beads."

"Yes, sir." To his credit, the boy went straight to his task. After watching for a moment, his dad bent down to help him.

Amanda left them to the chore and turned her attention to the other supplies. "Phillip, I could use some help."The boy mumbled a complaint, but stood still while his mother loaded his arms with supplies and pointed him toward the craft closet.

"Mom, you missed a great game. You should've seen Skip pitch."

"Oh, really?" Amanda smiled knowingly. She'd suspected that Phillip would tail after Lee.

"And, man, can he hit," Brian chimed in. Forgetting the beads, the boy mimicked a batter's stance and pretended to hit a line drive. "Going, going, gone. Skip hit that sucker right over the centerfield fence."

"You'd think our assistant director would have more important things to do than row boats, sing songs, and play softball." Bryce quietly directed his comments to Amanda. "I'm not buying his happy camper act. It makes me wonder what he's really doing at Camp Harmony."

Amanda shook her head, hoping to end the discussion in front of their audience. "Boys, please pick up the rest of the beads. "We'll be outside."

She led the way to the porch and then sat down on the end of the deck, letting her legs dangle over the edge.

Bryce took a seat beside her, apparently eager to continue his line of thought. "So, tell me, what do you know about Skip Stanton?"

Amanda shrugged. "Skip says he's from Rockville, Md. He's friendly, good with kids, and very responsible. I don't know what else to tell you."

His earnest blue eyes held her gaze. "Well, like I mentioned at the lighthouse, I have my suspicions about Skip Stanton and Francine Redmond. In all likelihood they're federal agents. I'm nearly certain we saw them at Chez Tayir."

"There were a lot of people in the restaurant that night," Amanda said, nervously wringing her hands together. "I don't know how you could possibly remember individuals."

"They had guns, Amanda. And they were asking questions. You must remember."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I've done my best to forget the evening, including who was there."

Bryce laughed. "Well, I hope not me."

"Definitely not you," she replied, offering him a warm smile. "I just don't want to resurrect the entire event again. It was hard enough to endure the shooting the first time."

"You're right," he said, relaxing his demeanor. "We don't need to rehash Chez Tayir. However, I have to tell you, Amanda, I get the distinct impression that you and Skip Stanton know each other. It's my job to notice people's actions, and I swear you two have a discernible rhythm with each other. It's hard to believe you just met yesterday."

"Bryce, until last night, I never heard the name Skip Stanton."

"Okay," he said, holding up his hands. "Please accept my humble apology. I just hope there won't be any trouble at Camp Harmony."

"Believe me, if I hear of any danger this week, I'll usher you and the children off the premises immediately."

"Of course you will. Please forgive me for building a federal case based on conjecture." Quickly he drew her into a hug. "You're a very logical person, Amanda King. A man could do well by you. I know you're good for me."

Amanda savored the moment of truce, looking up just in time to catch the Dotty West's signature Cheshire grin. "Hello," she croaked, knowing the innocent embrace would fuel new speculation.

"Lovely evening, isn't it, darling? I'm glad you and Mr. Topping can enjoy it together."

Bryce shot Amanda a sheepish look, before turning to face the gawking bystander. "Amanda and I are just catching up on old times while we wait for the boys to join us."

"Sure you are," Dotty said, nodding knowingly. "I'm glad you two appreciate your friendship."

Saved by the slamming of a screen door, all eyes turned toward the two rambunctious boys who jumped off the porch. "Hi, Grandma," Phillip said. "Are you going to the campfire?"

Dotty ruffled his hair as he tried to dodge her reach. "Why don't you show me the way, dear."

"I don't know where we're going," Phillip answered with a shrug.

Suddenly Jamie ran up to the group and tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mom, may I sit with you tonight?"

"Of course, sweetheart, as long as your counselor said it was okay."

"Yeah, Mr. Duncan said it would be fine. He was satisfied that I went boating with my cabin mates."

"Good for you, sweetheart. Did you have fun?"

"It was okay, I guess. We ended up in Miss Redmond's boat again," he said with a frown. "Jeez, what a bossy lady. She didn't like our 'Knock-Knock' jokes, and Kevin's burping really got on her nerves. Then, when Michael dropped his Garter snake at her feet, she really started to hollar. I don't think she likes kids."

"Maybe, she's never been around boys very much." Repressing a smile, Amanda put her arm around her youngest. "So," she said, addressing the group, "does everyone have a flashlight and a jacket? It's going to get cold and dark before we return." Miraculously, everyone produced the needed items, and Amanda gave a thumbs up. "All right, then, follow me." She beckoned to her entourage and led the hike toward Vesper Point.

The boys entertained the adults with endless chatter as they made their way along a winding pathway and through a lush wooded area. Finally breaking into a clearing, they all stopped in their tracks at the breath-taking sight. The ground sloped into an outdoor amphitheater with a panoramic backdrop of the Chesapeake Bay.

The serenity and beauty immediately inspired a sense of awe, even in the kids. It was if they'd walked through a thin veil and entered a realm of something mystical and sacred. The boys' boisterous voices dropped to a whisper as the King and Topping families took their places on rustic wooden benches. Arranged in tiered semi-circles, the seating provided everyone with a mesmerizing view of the bay.

Ketches drifted by in the distance with their majestic sails billowing in the wind. Seagulls soared overhead, glided to earth, and strutted proudly in the sand. A Great Blue Heron waded through the marsh, plunged a long beak into the shallows, and captured its prey. The setting sun splashed the sky with hues of orange, pink, and purple; and the steel blue water of the bay merged with the darkening horizon. In the hush of twilight, peace stood still.

Amanda felt the day's tension drain away. Sitting between Bryce and Jamie, she relished the closeness of family and friends. However, her heart still longed for something more, and the more was down front, stoking the flames of the campfire.

Restng on one jean clad knee, Lee added more logs to the fire and expertly fanned the flames. Sparks rose high in the air, riding on the wind and casting dying embers upon the water.

Silhouetted against the gloaming, the solitary figure seemed at one with the earth. He belonged to no one, and no one belonged to him. A loner was what he called himself, resigned to making his way in the world, unencumbered by family.

Maybe no woman had the right to stake her claim on a man with a mission - a man who tirelessly labored to protect and defend the lives of so many people. His effectiveness as a top intelligence operative depended on his footloose lifestyle that took him to dangerous places at a moment's notice.

Amanda sighed wistfully. While her mind grasped the facts precisely, her heart defied the logic. She wanted more than just a partner at work. In truth, she longed for the total Stetson package -the colleague, the friend, the lover, the husband, the father to her children. In this moment of soul searching, she knew that nothing in her past or present could convince her otherwise.

"Wishing won't make it so," she whispered, pondering the likelihood of living out the rest of her years with the pain of unrequited love. Words from Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem, "In Memoriam," came to mind, providing her a measure of comfort. "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," she murmured to herself.

The strumming of a guitar redirected Amanda's thoughts. Brandi stood near Lee, tuning her instrument. Then, in a crystal clear soprano voice, she began to sing her repertoire of peace songs -"Imagine," "Dona Nobis Pacem," and "We Shall Overcome."

When Lee motioned for everyone to join in the singing, Amanda swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to find her voice. The last words of the old Civil Rights song seemed to offer her some semblance of hope for a more perfect union with Lee. "Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome some day."

* * *

><p>To Be Continued<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

On Monday, Lee stepped into the arts and craft cabin, hoping to earn some time with Amanda. If helping out was the purchase price for a few moments of togetherness, then so be it. Unobtrusively he snapped a few pictures as he waited for the appropriate time to make his presence known.

Much to his regret, they'd had little to say to each other, ever since she'd plucked him from the bay on Saturday night. Regardless, he couldn't get the rescue out of his mind. Something had clicked between them like never before, and that realization had thrown him completely off balance.

He'd purposely avoided her at last night's campfire, because she was obviously occupied with the King and Topping entourage. How could he miss the two cozy little families squeezed tightly together on a long bench at the amphitheater? There was no denying the truth. He was jealous. Just as he'd accused Amanda of envying Brandi, he was envying Bryce.

Lee pondered their predicament as he let the lyrical rhythm of Amanda's voice soothe his frayed nerves. He noted the toss of her chestnut hair and the bare shoulder that peeked from the wide neckline of her red jersey. Her brown eyes sparkled, lit by an inner light that never failed to warm his soul.

She sat serenely in the middle of a circle, while the children sprawled on the floor around her. They listened with rapt attention as she told the story of Sadako, a young Japanese girl who'd lived in Hiroshima at the time of the atomic bombing. Amanda's hands moved gracefully as she expanded on the short life of Sadako. Gently, she told about the child's illness, caused by radiation.

"Sadako was very sick and eventually she was confined to a nursing home. While there, a friend came to visit and brought her a paper crane. According to legend, anyone who folded a thousand paper cranes would be granted a wish. Sadako's wish was to get well. Therefore, she set to work, making paper cranes. Gradually, she became weaker, and, sadly, she died on October 25, 1955, at the age of twelve."

"Jeez, Mom," Phillip complained. "that's a pretty sad story."

Yes," but good came from the story. School children in Japan were inspired by Sadako's courage, and they decided to raise money to build a peace monument. The children also made a special plea." Amanda held up a picture of a peace monument at Hiroshima Peace Park.

"The statue is Sadako holding a golden crane. The children's wish is inscribed at the bottom. It reads, 'This is our cry. This is our prayer. Peace in the World'."

Lee watched Amanda wipe a tear from her cheek as she finished the story. Even the children seemed to grasp the enormity of the message as they silently pondered the ending.

Kathleen respectfully waved a hand. "Mrs. King, are we going to make peace cranes?"

Amanda produced an origami paper crane. "Like this one?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, yes," the children chanted.

Amanda signaled for calm. "We'll finish with our banners, and then we'll start making peace cranes."

Realizing he was intruding upon their peace lessons, Lee decided to make himself scarce. Backing out the door, he was stopped in his tracks when Amanda's voice called to him. "Well, look who's here, children."

He offered a gentle smile and ventured closer to the group, nearly falling when two tiny females flung there arms around his long legs.

"Hi, Skip," Julie and Jenny shouted together. Their shining blue eyes stared up at him with complete devotion.

Captured by the sweetness, he pried their fingers off his limbs and enfolded their hands in his own. "Okay, I'll stay."

"Sit here, sit here," the children shouted, quickly widening their circle to include him.

Apparently his unexpected appearance was disruptive enough to shorten the attention span of some of the children. A poke here and a punch there were the first indications of trouble. Lee shook his finger in warning, trying to keep order while Amanda snaked a piece of dowel through the hem of a felt banner. In bold letters it proclaimed, "Let Peace Begin With Me."

The collection of dowels must have sparked the imagination of several restless boys. Soon, a freckled face kid poked Phillip King in the ribs with the long stick. It was an invitation to trouble, too tempting to ignore.

Phillip immediately grabbed another piece of dowel and waved it like a sword. "On guard, Brandon," he said, taking on a fencing posture.

"Boys," Amanda cautioned, in the same instant that Lee commandeered the make-shift weapons.

The die had been cast. Not to be outdone, Brian pulled out his slingshot and propelled a small stone into the plump derriere of Dennis. "Bulls eye," Brian declared, lifting his hands in victory.

"Hey." Lee grabbed the little nuisance by the arm and pried the slingshot from his hand. "Now you apologize."

"I'm sorry," Brian said to the scowling Dennis.

"I'll get you, Topping," the Irish lad promised, shaking a fist at Brian. "Just you wait."

"Oh, no you won't" Lee warned. Things had certainly gotten out of hand since he'd showed up. Until he inserted himself in the mix, the session had been going quite well.

Amanda didn't seemed fazed in the least. "Well, I think I have the volunteers for my peace band. At Camp Harmony, we trade weapons for musical instruments. We'll make music, not war."

"Music?" The boys looked at her liked she was a complete dork.

"Sure," she said, beckoning to her college assistant. "Becky, please bring over the musical instruments."

In a matter of seconds, Amanda collected the weapons of childish combat and replaced them with a big bass drum, a pair of bongos, a tambourine, and a set of cymbals.

"Now, boys, as all of us sing, I want you to pound the drums, shake the tambourine, and bang the cymbals with the same enthusiasm you showed in attacking each other. And I want you to think about spreading the message of love all over the world."

Putting a record on the old stereo, Amanda motioned for everyone to join in with the Pete Seeger song, "If I Had a Hammer." Soon everyone was singing and clapping to the catchy tune, and the boys had forgotten their animosity toward each other.

Lee made his way to Amanda's side and whispered in her ear. "You never cease to amaze me."

"How so?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders in complete innocence.

Lee locked his hands behind him, resisting the urge to touch the small of her back. "Well," he said, blowing out a breath, "you can negotiate peace in any setting. It wasn't so long ago that you convinced the KGB to hand over their guns and share a Christmas Eve dinner of beans, Vodka and Herring. Then, as I recall, you got them to sing."

"Singing kept you from killing each other, didn't it?" she said, poking a finger against his chest. "You tried to tell me the KGB agents weren't big on holiday cheer."

"Leave it to you to prove me wrong - about a lot of things." Lee smiled, hoping to convey his deep respect and affection for the most amazing woman in his life. "Amanda, your charms totally disarmed the Russians. You're a national treasure in my book."

"Thank you," she said, offering a lovely smile meant entirely for him.

One of the children suddenly squeezed between the twosome, reminding them of their larger audience. "Mrs. King, your face is all red."

"Is it?" she asked, taking a step back and straightening the jersey that kept slipping down over one shoulder. "Did you have a question Dennis?"

"No, but the boss lady is here." He pointed toward the door.

Lee and Amanda turned in one accord. "Brandi," they said in unison as the camp director moved toward them with an air of aristocracy.

The Litchfield charm seemed a bit subdued. "So, we meet again. You two are getting to be inseparable. I hope it isn't another emergency."

"Ah, no," Lee said, anxious to correct her assumption. "I was just visiting the afternoon activities and getting some pictures." He cleared his throat and ran his fingers over his hair, feeling like a complete idiot. "Did you need me for something?"

"Why, yes, there are some issues we need to discuss." Brandi placed a delicate hand on his arm and motioned toward the door. "If you can pull yourself away from here, we can get started."

"Sure. No problem." Lee kept a watchful eye on Amanda, not missing the stubborn set of her jaw as she turned away.

Brandi smiled brightly and handed him a sheet of paper. "Here's the list of activities for tonight. I want you to lead the scavenger hunt for the Chipmunk and the Raccoon cabin groups. Then I'll need you to make ice cream with the Wolves and the Foxes."

"I can't believe this," he mumbled to himself. He had his own hunt planned for tonight, and it didn't include children's games and treats. There'd be no letting down his guard. If he wanted to insure the safety of the camp, he had to be vigilant.

A stylish shoe tapped impatiently. "So, the courtly Miss Litchfield asked, "is that a yes?"

"Absolutely." He plastered on a smile, careful to hide his real agenda. He didn't want to announce his on-going investigation of the camp.

Brandi raised an eyebrow in question. "Is there something I'm missing here?"

"No, nothing. I'd better get busy on planning a scavenger hunt."

"I'll help you," she offered, placing her hand in the crook of his arm. "It'll be fun."

Moving toward the door, he waved to Amanda. "See you later," he called, acutely aware that she ignored his good-bye.

Lee didn't need a psychic to know what she was thinking. Maybe he should pay attention to his partner's instincts about Brandi. If Amanda King could trust two KGB agents on Christmas Eve, but not trust the director of a peace camp, then maybe he ought to heed her warning.

* * *

><p>At dusk, Lee hiked up the gravel road to the yellow clapboard house, highlighted with intricate green and lilac trim. Isolated on the edge of the camp property, the charming Victorian structure had probably been acquired when the land was purchased by the founders of Camp Harmony. Now it served as the year-round residence for the camp manager, Pete Bailey, and his wife.<p>

The place had the look of an old sea captain's home, complete with a bell-shaped tower and a black wrought-iron railing that surrounded the widow's walk on the pinnacle of the second story roof. Like many mariners' homes, the front of the house faced the water. There must have been many sad tales to tell of anxious wives, standing on the high vantage point, watching for their men to return from sea.

With the house hemmed in by two imposing Weeping Willow trees, it was difficult to see any sign of activity from the road. The interior looked nearly dark, save for the flickering light of a television screen, visible through the sheer curtains of a window.

A distinct bark of the family beagle gave plenty of warning as Lee rounded the corner and stepped onto the wide porch. Vigilant and thorough, the dog's wet nose checked out the shoes and pants of the unfamiliar visitor. Lee scratched the long ears. "It's okay, boy."

"Evening," a voice called from the porch swing. The faint glow of a cigar testified to the presence of Pete Bailey. "I figured you'd pay me a visit sooner or later."

"Hello, Pete." Lee cautiously picked his way across the cluttered porch. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Nope. Just having a smoke. The missus doesn't want my cigars smelling up the living room." Without rising, Pete pointed to a rocker.

A curtain moved in the window, and two women peered out. Lee nodded a greeting, and they waved in return. "You have company, I see."

"Just Loretta. She usually stops to see my Elvira when she's wrapped things up in the camp kitchen. The two of them like to watch TV together."

Lee took the offered chair, careful of the dog who growled at his feet. .

"Heel, Tuck," Pete commanded in his gruff baritone. The dog didn't need to be told twice.

The two men sat in compatible silence, entertained by the glow of fire flies and the symphony of crickets and tree toads. The air was cool and smelled of ozone, courtesy of the recent summer shower.

Lee decided to speak first. "Are the kids okay?"

"Yep."

"I guess you heard about the mishap at the lighthouse."

"Yep." Pete took another puff on his cigar and patted the empty space on the swing. Tuck leaped up beside him, curling himself into a tight ball.

Lee ran a hand over his short-cropped hair in frustration. Amanda's assessment had been correct. This man wasn't going to open up easily. "So, tell me; do you have any thoughts on the incident?"

"I'll leave that to you undercover cops."

Lee winced at the comment. "Excuse me?"

"Hell, I can put two and two together."

"And what is your conclusion?"

"Skip, I saw you bring in the phony tourist from Shady Point. It wasn't much later that the staff was being fingerprinted. I don't need a degree in criminal justice to figure out what you must do for a living."

"Well, the authorities needed to be called. The kids were in danger."

A low rumble emanated from Pete's throat, but his laugh was short-lived. "Don't worry. Whoever you are, your secret is safe with me. I'm glad you're here."

"Have you been concerned about the camp?"

"I figured you had it under control, or we'd have been shut down. I'd be obliged if you'd keep a close eye on Sean and Colleen."

Something in Pete's tone gave Lee pause. "Is there anything that makes them particularly vulnerable?"

"Humph." With a low grunt, Pete dodged the question. "They're my sister's kids. She married a full-blooded Irishman. A few years back, he moved 'um across the pond. Sean and Colleen are just visiting here for the summer."

"From where?"

"Belfast, Ireland." Pete fell silent. Except for Tuck's panting, the only sound was the squeaking of the porch swing as it moved back and forth.

God, it was like pulling teeth to extract information from the man. Lee tried again. "Did something happen to the kids before they came to stay with you? They seem skittish."

"They had a bad scare. An explosion destroyed their house. Thankfully, no one was hurt."

Lee leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Was it an accident?"

"Nope. More than likely, it was the work of terrorists."

Lee felt a chill run down his spine. "Do you have any idea what provoked it?"

Pete took another puff on his cigar and reached to pet his dog. "The kids live in the Protestant sector," he said, slowly drawing out each word. "Their father is a Unionist sympathizer. He's sort of an organizer for the cause."

"I see." Now, Lee really did see. Sean and Colleen could easily be pawns in the war game. The IRA would find them very appealing targets, especially if their father was plugged in with Unionist terrorists. "Where are the kids this evening?"

"They joined one of the cabin groups for a camp-out. Since I'm on staff, they get included sometimes. Tonight they're sleeping out under the stars."

Lee shook his head, feeling alarmed that Pete would let the kids out of his sight after the close call they suffered at the lighthouse. "Do you think they're safe?"

"Should be. They're on camp property - over by the tall pines. The camp has some nice lean-tos set up there."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I'll check on them?"

"Let 'um be, tonight. Everything was fine when I drove them out there about an hour ago."

"So," Lee said, rising and stretching out the kinks in his stiff back. "Is there anyone on staff who seems suspicious to you?"

"Nope, but a word to the wise; when it comes to kinfolk, blood is thicker than water."

"Would you care to elaborate?" The screech of the screen door interrupted his line of questioning.

Pete immediately dropped the subject and moved toward the entryway. "Heading out, Loretta?"

"Yeah, I need my beauty sleep. It's gets harder and harder to rise and shine at five o'clock in the morning. My old bones are telling me I need to retire from kitchen duty after this season."

"Oh, you say that every year, Loretta, but you love the camp gossip too much to retire." Pete gave her a friendly pat on the arm.

Lee saw his chance. "I think I'll head out now, too. Thanks for the history lesson, Pete." Turning to Loretta, he offered an elbow. "May I see you to your car?"

"That's nice of you, Skip." Loretta smiled a toothy grin and leaned heavily on his arm.

"Night, folks," Pete said, giving Lee a hardy hand shake as he passed. "Come see us again, Stanton."

"You bet." Ushering Loretta down the walkway, Lee didn't hesitate to try some soft interrogation. "So, I imagine you love Camp Harmony."

"Goodness, yes. The people here have been my family. I love the Baileys and Brandi like they were next of kin."

"So, how long have you known them?"

"It seems like forever. The Baileys have been here for decades. Miss Litchfield came about six years ago."

"I'm sure they're very fond of you, too, especially Brandi. I don't think she has much family to speak of."

"Just her brother."

"She mentioned him. Have you met Paddy?"

"Paddy, you say?" Loretta halted her lumbering progress toward the car. "I thought it was Danny, but then I'm terrible with names. Brandi's brother has been here several times over the years. It's not any of my business, but he certainly is strange."

"How so?"

"Mood swings, I guess. I'm no expert, but it seems like he has one of those split personalities the head doctors talk about on TV talk shows." Loretta's plump arms pumped to the rhythm of her Maryland nasal twang. Clearly she was in her element.

Lee motioned with his hand, trying to get her back on track. "You were saying something about mood swings."

"Yes, Brandi's brother is usually as docile as a basset hound, but the last time I saw him he seemed downright hostile."

"Oh?"

"Well, he was gruff and unfriendly - wouldn't even take one of my cookies. Folks around these parts tell me I make the best cookies in the whole county, but I suppose you've formed your own opinion." Loretta stopped abruptly, obviously waiting for a compliment.

Lee smiled. "Yes, I would agree. No one can top Loretta Merkel's 'Oatmeal Raison Delights'." Accept for Amanda, he added to himself. "So, Paddy doesn't eat cookies. Is there anything else strange about the man?"

"He has mean eyes, and, oh yes, I couldn't help but wonder about his Irish accent."

"What about his accent?"

"Well, sometimes he uses it and sometimes he doesn't. In years past, he sounded like a typical American, but the last time I saw him, he was speaking in the oddest English. It's none of my concern, but why would he switch to a heavy Irish accent?"

"Yeah, that's strange." Lee opened the door to the Ford Escort wagon and waited as Loretta squeezed her ample bulk behind the wheel. "Well, thanks for chatting with me. I'll be in for some of those world class cookies."

"I'll whip up a batch in the morning - just for you."

* * *

><p>In a few hours, the soft summer evening gave way to a fast moving storm that took dead aim on Camp Harmony. Ominous thunderheads rose toward the firmament like gigantic mushrooms, and thick humid air settled over the landscape like a heavy wet blanket. Quickly the wind picked up, banging loose shudders against the cabin walls and rustling leaves in the swaying treetops.<p>

Lee monitored the alarming weather as he tossed and turned restlessly on his cot. Perspiration clung to his scant clothing and bedding, making it impossible for him to settle down to sleep. The others snorted and whizzed in their bunks, oblivious to the encroaching threat.

The gathering storm would be a major threat to the children camping beneath the perilous sky. They had little but a canvas covering for protection. Debating what to do, Lee finally threw his long legs out of bed and pulled on blue jeans and a sleeveless sweatshirt. Sharp bolts of lightening forced a quick decision. He'd better drive the camp vehicle into the woods and bring in the kids. It was going to be one hell of a storm.

Damn if he knew which cabin groups were camping out tonight. Possibly they were the Blue Jays and the Hummingbirds or maybe the Cardinals and the Robins. He should have studied the sign-up sheet before he went to bed.

Resigned to his task, Lee slipped on sneakers and stumbled toward the door, grabbing a flashlight on his way out. Then, like a bat out of hell, he sprinted across the quadrangle, cringing as the rain began its assault and the cloud to ground lightening hit too close for comfort.

Reaching the camp's big Chevy Suburban, he yanked on the door handle and jumped inside. Sure enough, the keys were under the floor mat, just as Brandi had precisely explained to him during orientation. With a few spits and sputters, the engine roared to life.

Lee barely made it out of the parking lot when he spotted a lone figure waving frantically. "Hell, now what?" Slamming on his brakes, he skidded to a stop in front of the hitchhiker. To his surprise, it was Brandi.

Leaning across the bench seat, he threw open the passenger side door and grabbed for her hand. "Get in. I'm going for the kids."

"It looks like we had the same idea," she said, climbing aboard and pushing back the hood of her yellow rain slicker. "The children shouldn't be out in in this storm."

"Hell, I don't like it much either."

"Would you prefer if I drive?"

"What?" He shot her an incredulous look. "Listen, I'll have you know, I've driven a thirty foot motor home across the country through worse weather. I think I can handle a Suburban in a thunderstorm."

"Fine," she said, tossing her long hair over her shoulders. "It's just that the old Chevy has been like a second skin to me during long summers at Camp Harmony."

"Yeah, I guess it has," he said with a benign nod of the head. Shifting into drive, he stepped on the accelerator and steered the vehicle toward the far end of the camp, where the tall pines stood like cathedral spires reaching toward heaven

Brandi immediately assumed the role of navigator. "You'll take a right by the ball field."

"I know, I know." He bit his lip, wishing her timing had been less than impeccable. He fully intended the rescue to be a solo operation. Brandi Litchfield, as commander-in-chief, was really going to try his patience. "So, who are we going after?"

"It's the Blue Jays and the Hummingbirds - The Bryce Topping and Michele Swanson cabin groups. Actually Michele couldn't go with them tonight. She sprained her ankle."

"Are you telling me that Topping took the kids on a campout by himself?"

"No, of course not. Amanda King is pinch-hitting for the girls' counselor tonight."

"Great," he replied, feeling a pang of resentment. The fates seemed determined to team Bryce and Amanda together. He wished to hell she would have told him her plans. "I should have known she'd be in the thick of things."

"Do I detect a little jealousy?"

"Of course not. Amanda can do whatever she wants." He ventured a heated glare.

Brandi pressed her lips together in obvious disapproval. "I think there's more going on with you two than meets the eye. Every time I turn around, Amanda King is by your side. Are you trying to rekindle an old romance?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She's a suburban mom with two kids, a mother, and a station wagon ," he said, a tad too defensively. "An intelligence operative and an innocent housewife move in vastly different circles."

"Yes, I would imagine a spy surrounds himself with more glamorous people." Brandi gave him a long look, but she had the grace to end the conversation when he met her comment with stony silence.

They hadn't driven far before the clouds opened up. The storm was right overhead, pouring out its wrath in blinding sheets of rain. Jagged streaks of lightning flashed like bombs bursting in air, and fierce sustained rumbles reverberated through the woods like the sound of a thousand thunders.

Soldiering on, Lee thought he saw the turn-off up ahead. "Is this the best way to the campsite?" he asked, pointing toward the dirt road. "Hell, it's little better than a cow path."

"I'm afraid so." Brandi braced her hand against the dashboard. "The ruts will be pretty deep. Getting to the campers won't be easy.

"Suddenly a van rounded the bend, barreling down the middle of the road, straight toward them. Momentarily blinded by the glare of headlights, Lee shielded his eyes and swerved the Suburban to the right. "Hang on," he yelled as the Chevy left the shoulder and slid into a ditch.

Brandi let out a gasp as her body slammed into the passenger side door. "My God, that was a close call."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, sitting up with as much dignity as possible.

"Damn it. Who the hell was that jerk?" Lee pounded the steering wheel in frustration, realizing they were probably stuck. A few spins of the Chevy's wheels confirmed his suspicions. He was only digging them in deeper. "Great, now we're bogged down. That guy in the van deliberately forced us off the road."

"I'm afraid you're right," Brandi said, her voice sounding oddly flat. "I think we have bigger trouble than just being stuck."

"What kind of trouble?" Lee turned off the engine and flipped on the overhead light, looking for answers in the stubborn set of her jaw and the wariness in her eyes.

Brandi fingered the cuff of her rain slicker. "I caught a glimpse of the vehicle. When Paddy showed up previously, he was driving the same white van."

"You're brother? My office confirmed that he flew back to Ireland."

"Well, someone is mistaken." She hung her head, unable to meet his eyes.

Lee blew out a harsh breath. Something in her demeanor gave him pause. Did he really want to trust her after all? "Tell me, Brandi," he said, weighing his words carefully, "does your brother speak with an Irish Brogue?"

"Well, of course. He's lived in Ireland all his life."

"Loretta Merkel claims he can drop his accent whenever it suits him. She also thinks your brother's name is Danny - not Paddy. Damn it, what exactly is the honest-to-God truth about your family?"

"Oh," was the only word that passed her lips.

Lee felt his temper flare. "Listen, lady, if you've been withholding information from me, you'd better spit it out right now."

"I have two brothers," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He clinched his fists, desperately trying to control his anger. "I should have known. Amanda knew you were hiding something all along."

"Amanda?" Brandi's eyes grew wide with surprise. "So the squeaky clean mother of two is privy to your investigation. I take it she dabbles in espionage on the side."

"This isn't about Mrs. King," he said, between clinched teeth. "Who the hell is your other brother?"

"His name is Danny Thornton - he's Paddy's identical twin." Brandi seemed to shrink in size as her body sagged with obvious guilt.

Lee was livid. "Well, that's one hell of a revelation. One of your brothers was spotted leaving the country, but the other one may still be here, ready to make his political statement at Camp Harmony."

"No, no, it's not what you think." Brandi composed herself, calmly straightening her shoulders before meeting Lee's hard gaze. "My brothers are two very different people. Danny came to America with Mother and me, but he made his own way in our new country. He changed his name, got a job, worked his way through college, and forged a good life. He's a simple man, living a peaceful existence as a small town pharmacist in Pennsylvania. Danny has nothing to do with Paddy."

"Well, maybe, just maybe, Paddy has had something to do with him."

"I think you're mistaken," Brandi said, defiantly standing her ground. "There was absolutely no reason to drag Danny into your investigation. He's just an honest, hardworking citizen, who's devoted himself to an ailing wife and young daughter. I needed to respect his right to privacy."

"Wrong! You needed to be upfront about the jarring detail. Damn it, we trusted you with the safety of this camp. Your silence may have jeopardized the lives of all the children."

"I'm confident that Danny is not involved," she said reassuringly. "If Paddy is here, then obviously your intelligence was wrong." She placed her hand on his arm as a peace offering.

Lee recoiled at her touch. "Save it, Miss Litchfield. I'm not interested in your assessment." Opening his door to the deluge, he stepped from the vehicle, motioning for her to follow. "We're walking to the campground from here. I hope we aren't too late to save the kids and their counselors."

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The steady drumbeat of rain pounded against Amanda's aching skull, as she slowly came to consciousness. Moaning, she cautiously opened her eyes. "Oh my gosh." Bits and pieces of her ordeal prodded her memory. A noise had lured her from the lean-to, while the children slept in their sleeping bags. A scavenger had been her first thought - probably a raccoon looking for food. Only it wasn't. Someone had grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth. She'd been hit with something. Most likely it was chloroform

There was no way to discern how long she'd been unconscious. A storm had been approaching when she left the shelter. Now everything was drenched. Fear knifed through her heart as deadly scenarios plagued her mind. What happened to the children? Where was her co-counselor? "Bryce," she called, worried that he'd been assaulted, too. There was no answer. He'd been with the boys in one lean-to, while she and the girls slept in the other one, only twenty feet away.

"Hello," she called again, panic rising in her voice. "Is anyone there?" Streaks of lightning flashed in the distance. The storm must be moving away.

The rustle of canvas announced movement. "Mom," a familiar voice called. "Mom, are you all right?" The boy moved from the lean-to and knelt at her side. "What happened?"

"Phillip, she said with relief. "I must have passed out." Slowly she sat up. "How are the others?"

"I don't know - asleep I, guess."

"Sweetheart, I want you to count noses. I need to know if Bryce and the boys are still in your lean-to."

"Okay," he said, as he sloshed through the puddles in his bare feet.

Still feeling woozy, Amanda started crawling toward the girls' shelter. Between distant rumbles of thunder she heard soft whimpers. Someone was awake and frightened.

Phillip hurried back with a flashlight. "Mom, I checked on the guys. Everyone's there except Sean."

"Thank you sweetheart," she said, trying to keep the alarm from her voice. "Could you give me a hand?"

"Sure." The boy set his light on the ice chest. Then bracing his mother's back and elbow, he eased her from the ground.

"You did great, Phillip. Now we need to check on the girls."

"Mom, I don't understand. What's happening?"

The snap of a stick announced a visitor. "Shush," she cautioned as she killed the light. Quickly she placed a finger on her son's lips. "Don't move."

"Amanda?" The familiar timbre of Lee's voice penetrated her weary brain.

"Here," she said, wanting nothing more than to fling herself into her partner's familiar arms. Spotting someone a step behind him, she stood her ground.

Lee's flashlight clicked on. "Brandi and I came to take the troops home."

"Thank God, you're here." Amanda's gaze settled on the quiet camp director. For some odd reason, Brandi projected meekness instead of her usual commanding presence.

Lee stepped forward and gave Phillip a friendly pat on the shoulder as he hurried to Amanda's side. "What's going on?" he asked, giving her hand a squeeze.

Reassured by his touch, she leaned in close. "Sean's missing, and I don't know about the girls yet." She felt his arm snake around her waist as they moved toward the shelter. "We've had unexpected company," she whispered. "The intruder hit me with something. I don't know how long I've been unconscious."

"Oh God, Amanda. Are you okay?"

"I seem to be shaking it off." She tugged on his arm. "Who do you think was here?"

"I'm guessing it was O'Grady, but we can't be positive yet." Lee pushed the lean-to flap aside. Then bending on one knee, he scanned the sleeping girls with his flashlight. The sight of one frightened child brought him up short. "Hi, Megan," he whispered, softening his tone to reassure the child. "We're here now."

"Skip," she cried, her voice quivering with fear. "I be scared." The small girl lunged at him, burrowing her face against his shoulder.

Gathering her close, he rose with Megan in his arms. "Did the storm scare you, honey?"

"Uh huh." She nodded her head and hiccupped. "Colleen be gone."

"Oh, sweetie." Amanda brushed the child's hair from her forehead, while sharing a knowing look with Lee.

"Don't worry, Megan," Lee said as he gently patted the little girl's back. "Everything is going to be fine."

"Mrs. King." A chorus of female voices called from the lean-to.

Amanda ducked her head inside. "Come on out, girls."

Bedraggled and damp, four more joined the gathering. Their feminine sleepwear ran the gamut from baby doll pajamas, to fuzzy footed sleepers, to cotton "Barbie" nightgowns.

Lee turned to Brandi who watched the proceedings in stoic silence. "If you hope to redeem yourself, you can start by helping the girls get dressed for a hike. Then we're going to get the whole group back to camp."

"Of course." Miss Litchfield's stiff form moved into action.

Amanda quirked an eyebrow and shot Lee a quizzical look. "What's going on?"

"Later," he said, ignoring her question.

Bryce and the boys unfolded themselves from their shelter. "What's all this?" Topping asked, appearing a little worse for wear.

Amanda moved to his side. "Do you feel okay, Bryce?"

"No." He covered his face with his hands and gave his head a shake. "I feel like I'm swimming through molasses."

"You've been hit with something," Lee said, keeping his voice low for the sake of the children. "It's probably Chloroform."

"Chloroform?" Bryce focused his attention on Lee. "Not you again. You keep showing up like a bad penny, Stanton. Wherever you appear, trouble is sure to follow."

"Not now, Topping," Lee warned, in a tone laced with venom.

Amanda was more understanding. "Bryce," she said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "It seems Sean and Colleen are missing."

"What?" His head whipped around, confirming the obvious. Sean was not among his boys. "Well, they know the camp like the back of their hands. There was a storm approaching. Maybe it scared them, and they ran home."

"Yeah, maybe," Lee said, in a dismissive tone.

Bryce moved toward Lee, crowding his space. "Or should I assume we've had another raid, just like the one at Chez Tayir?"

"Back off, Topping; you're pinching my toes." Lee nudged Bryce's arm and led him over to the picnic table.

The boys watched the exchange with interest. Phillip started the inquisition. "Mom, did someone raid our camp?"

"A raid?" the others shouted together.

Brian perked up immediately. "Gnarly. Was it a kidnapper?" he asked, whipping out his slingshot.

Amanda intercepted the childish weapon and slipped it into her back pocket. "You've been warned about your dangerous toy, young man."

"Maybe it was a ghost," Dennis said, moving a little closer to his chums. "Or maybe Big Foot?"

"Was it a terrorist?" Michael took a nervous step backward, looking like he was about to bolt.

Amanda rushed to reassure them. "Or maybe it was just the storm. I'm perfectly fine. Skip is here. We're safe." She quickly ushered the kids back to their shelter. "Get your shoes on, all of you. We're going back to the cabins."

Then turning on her heel, she headed toward the two men who continued to snarl at each other. Lee had certainly met his match when it came to Bryce's stubbornness. The celebrated lawyer was bound and determined to get answers. He'd built his case with astute observation and now seemed poised to expose their covers.

"I want to know what you're doing posing as a camp leader," Bryce said, poking a finger at Lee's chest.

The limited Stetson patience had definitely reached its threshold. "Listen, Topping, I don't have time to play Perry Mason. I have a job to do, and I'm not at liberty to discuss national security. Whatever's on your mind will have to remain under wraps. It's imperative that you keep your mouth shut. Got it?"

"If the camp is in danger, I have a right to know." Turning to Amanda, he glared at her. "Needless to say, you're mixed up with this guy, aren't you?"

She looked at Lee and shrugged. "Well, in a way . . ."

"Listen, Topping. Amanda's involvement is very straight forward. She saw a potential problem and acted on it immediately. To her credit, she called in security."

"By security, I assume you mean the Feds. They must be crawling all over this place, and you knew it all along, didn't you, Amanda? You should have told me right up front."

"I'm sorry, Bryce. I didn't want to keep you in the dark."

"She couldn't tell you, Topping," Lee said, coming to her defense. "You've been around the Washington scene long enough to understand the drill."

"Yes, 'need to know' and 'top secret'. I've got it." Placing his hands on his hips, Bryce studied Amanda. "I can't believe you're a spook."

"It's not what you may think. I just help out sometimes." She studied her feet, horrified that her secret life had been discovered by a good friend.

Lee put his arm around Amanda, lending his support. "You owe Mrs. King a debt of gratitude. Her instincts were right on the mark. I think you should be proud of her."

"Mystified is all I feel at the moment," Bryce said. "Sweet, sensible PTA moms don't usually dabble in espionage."

Amanda hung her head. If a friend managed to sort out the truth, the day was surely coming when Dotty West saw the light, too. It would be unbearable to see the same disapproval in her mother's eyes. "Bryce, my mother and children don't know."

"Yeah," he said dryly. "I figured that out."

Lee stepped in to break the impasse. "Okay, enough of hurt feelings. Securing the camp has to be our primary focus at this point. Topping, I hope we can count on you to play on our team."

"Yes, of course," Bryce said, squaring his shoulders with all the dignity of his trademark professionalism.

Lee extended his hand in camaraderie "Fine. Let's get the children back to the camp. Time is paramount."

* * *

><p>Once the children were secured in their cabins, the night's ordeal continued, with no end in sight. Sean and Colleen were still missing, and somewhere an intruder still stalked the campgrounds. If things couldn't be resolved soon, the entire camp would need to be evacuated by dawn's first light.<p>

In full agent mode, Lee barked out orders as the disheveled adults made their way to the lodge. "Bryce, go round up Francine and Chuck. We'll all meet in the camp office." Going straight to the phone to call Billy, Lee paced nervously as he waited to be patched through. "We have big trouble," he said, when his boss answered. "We're going to need reinforcements. It seems Brandi Litchfield forgot to tell us that Patrick O'Grady has an identical twin brother. One of them probably showed up here tonight."

Shocked, Amanda whirled around to confront the camp director. She couldn't resist the burning question. "Excuse me, Brandi, but I have to ask. How could you?"

The confident Miss Litchfield straightened her shoulders and met Amanda's gaze. "I would think you, of all people, would appreciate my predicament. When it comes down to those you love, wouldn't you choose family over national security?"

Amanda's arms hugged her body as she weighed the awful dilemma. Certainly there'd been times when Lee put her needs above national security. Wouldn't she do the same for him? For her mother? For her children? "It's a terrible choice, but I'd never protect the identity of a family member or friend who had connections to a known terrorist."

"Nor would I," Brandi declared with an air of certitude. "I told the government everything they needed to know about Paddy. However, Danny is blameless. He left Ireland as a child, and he's not seen nor talked to his brother in 25 years. There's no need to involve him in the investigation."

"We'll see about that." Lee said, directing his remark to Brandi as he hung up the phone.

The door slammed, and Francine stormed in with Chuck and Bryce on her heels. "What have you got?"

"It seems a terrorist has turned up tonight. He apparently drugged Amanda and Bryce at the campsite, and he may have abducted Sean and Colleen."

"Is Billy's on his way with backup?"

"As of two minutes ago." Lee rubbed a hand over his wet hair. "Listen, I need you to keep an eye on Brandi until you can turn her over to the cavalry. Our illustrious camp director withheld some important details about another brother."

"You're kidding?" Francine bristled as she looked at Brandi. "I knew you were too good to be true."

"You'll need to check out the status of both brothers," Lee warned. Then turning to Chuck, he continued in emergency mode. "Get your speed boat ready. Make sure no one uses the bay as an escape route from Camp Harmony."

"I'm on it, man," Chuck said, giving Lee a pat on the back.

Lee waved a hand in dismissal. "Amanda and I are going to the Bailey farmhouse to see if Sean and Colleen have shown up there."

"We'll send reinforcements as soon as the troops arrive," Francine assured them.

Lee grabbed his partner's arm and headed for the door. "Topping, keep an eye on the cabin groups?"

"Absolutely," Bryce said, following them out of the lodge.

Amanda clutched Lee's hand as they raced toward the parking lot. "What if our intruder is hiding out at the Baileys? What's our plan?"

"We'll have to wing it. Let's assume the worst and go from there."

* * *

><p>Amanda fought her crippling fatigue as she drove her station wagon in stoic silence. Lee kept an uneasy vigil at her side, his body braced for action.<p>

"Slow down a bit," he ordered. "And kill the lights. The house is just ahead."

Endless moments passed as they crept along, the only sound coming from the crunch of tires on gravel. Finally the Bailey house came into view. Amanda shuddered at the startling sight. The moon cast ghostly shadows on the imposing structure. "It looks haunted," she whispered.

Lee twisted in his seat. "Hey, don't get spooked. We work best in the shadows, remember?"

The piercing screech of an owl and the eerie sway of the tree branches seemed to forewarn of trouble ahead. "I'll be glad when this is over," Amanda said, cringing at the slight tremor in her voice. "I don't like the look of the place."

"The old girl appears buttoned down for the night. In all likelihood, the family is fast asleep."

"Or dead in their beds," Amanda muttered to herself. "I hope we're not too late."

"We'll soon find out." Holding up his hand, Lee motioned for her to stop. "Let's pull over while we still have the cover of the trees. I'll walk in from here."

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not. I want you to wait for the cavalry." He touched a finger to her mouth. "Please, don't argue with me."

She nodded in agreement, fleetingly tempted to kiss the finger tip that lingered on her lips. The moment evaporated as he pulled away and exited the car.

Amanda fidgeted for a full twenty seconds. Like her mother, she could never just sit tight. Whether her partner liked it or not, she was going to watch his back.

Just as Lee reached the front steps, the porch light came on. Slowly the front door opened, and the face of Peter Bailey peered around it. "Who's out there?" he called, his deep voice echoing in the night.

Lee made his presence known. "It's Skip. I'm checking on the kids. Sean and Colleen disappeared from the campsite."

"Yup, I know. The storm scared them, so they hightailed it home."

"Are you okay?" Lee asked, taking a step forward.

Pete hesitated. Behind him the dog growled his disapproval. "Ah, everyone's fine. See you in the morning."

"Okay, sorry to have bothered you." Lee waved a hand and started down the driveway. "You can come out now, Amanda," he said as he passed the shrubs. "Thanks a lot for following orders."

Unapologetic, Amanda emerged from behind the tall Arborvitae. "Lee, we have to do something. Pete sounded worried. I think he needs our help."

"Yes, you're right, but not here, not now. We'll give the pretense of leaving."

When they made it back to the road, Amanda turned to study the house. The porch light was still on, revealing the yellow siding and multiple colors of the gingerbread trim. For her, it was an epiphany. Reaching for Lee's arm, she pulled him around to face her. "That's it."

"What's it?" he asked with annoyance, prying her fingers from his flesh.

"The house. Look at it closely. I've never seen this place until tonight, but it fits the description perfectly."

"What description?"

"Lee, I'm talking about the painted lady. It's the term used for Victorian houses and other buildings painted in three or more colors. Joe sent me a postcard from San Francisco several years ago . . ."

"Postcards," he said incredulously.

"Yes, I saw a postcard of the 'Seven Sisters' - the row houses on Alamo Square in San Francisco. They're called painted ladies. Don't you see? Paddy wants to blow up the Victorian house."

"My God, you're probably right." Lee took her arm and led her on a wide arc along the property. "Look," he said, pointing toward the roof. "There's a light in the tower. It wasn't visible when we arrived."

Amanda's eyes were drawn to the peak. A soft light glowed in the darkness, and two children peered into the night, their faces pressed against the window. Amanda sucked in a breath. "It's Sean and Colleen, isn't it?"

"Yes." Lee grabbed Amanda's hand and pulled her under the cover of the Weeping Willow trees. "You stay here and keep an eye out. I'm going to find a way inside."

"Please wait for help. Paddy is probably expecting you."

"There's no time, Amanda. If O'Grady wants to blow up the painted lady, he'll probably do it soon."

"But, you aren't armed."

"Yeah, well, someone always warned me against toting guns around kids."

"And you picked today to listen to me? Lee you need backup."

"I mean it, Amanda. Stay here." With a squeeze of her hand, he took off, crouched low to the ground.

He'd hardly cleared the cover of the tree before a screen door slammed, and someone dashed from the house, heading straight for a white van parked on the far side of the garage.

"O'Grady," Lee whispered, as he broke into a run, his long legs sprinting toward his goal like an Olympic Gold Medal winner. With the element of surprise on his side, he quickly closed the distance.

Suddenly the adversary spun around, produced a gun, and fired off a shot.

The bullet whizzed by Lee, never slowing his stride. With a flying leap, he tackled O'Grady. As they both slammed against the ground, the gun sailed under the van.

Over and over they rolled, each vying for the upper hand. Paddy ended up on top, one hand pressed against Lee's throat and the other hand grabbing for something in his boot. Suddenly the gleam of a knife glistened in the moonlight.

"Lee, watch out," Amanda called, inching forward as close as she dared.

O'Grady lunged with the weapon, the blade menacingly close to Lee's face. "Ye not be spoiling me plans," he yelled. "Ye be one of me victims."

Scarecrow grabbed O'Grady's wrist, straining for control. For precious seconds it was a stand-off.

Amanda knew she had to do something. Reaching in her back pocket, her fingers closed over Brian's slingshot. Pausing only to grab a stone from the driveway, she moved toward the struggling men. Then, taking aim, she let the stone fly, praying she wouldn't hit Lee.

A shout of pain came from O'Grady. She'd met her mark.

It was enough. As Paddy loosened his hold, Lee saw his opening. A blow to the jaw and a killer left hook were all it took before O'Grady crumbled on the ground.

Amanda rushed to Lee's side, wrapping her arm around his waist as he struggled to his feet. "I heard the accent. It has to be Paddy."

"Yeah, you're right," he answered, still clutching his throat and gasping for breath.

She held up the slingshot. "I can't believe how handy Brian's weapon turned out to be."

"Oh, Amanda," he said, pulling her against his side. "Nice shot."

Lee retrieved the knife, and made sure Paddy was out cold. Then confiscating the gun, he handed it to his partner. "Keep an eye on him?"

Amanda gingerly held the gun in the palm of her hand, mindful of the deadly power she now possessed. "Lee, if he wakes up and tries something, I can't shoot him."

"Yes, you can, Amanda. If it comes down to saving the kids, the Baileys and me, you can do it.

"Suddenly there was a flash of light and a loud boom. Lee pushed Amanda to the ground, falling right on top of her. "God, we're too late."

"Oh, my gosh." Peering out from under his arm, she saw flames shooting from the downstairs.

Lee scrambled to his feet and raced toward the burning house. Without a second's hesitation, he was through the front door.

Amanda pushed herself from the ground and scampered after him, stopping short of the threshold. Tucking the gun in her waistband, she charged through the door, immediately colliding with a searing blast of heat. "Lee, where are you?"

"Over here," he called from the next room. "Be careful, there's debris everywhere."

"I'm coming." Keeping low to the floor, she made her way to his side, just as he released the Baileys from their bindings.

"Amanda, quick, get them outside. I'm going for the kids," Without a backward glance, Lee headed straight for the stairs, dodging the flames as he went.

"Take it easy," Amanda said, as she put an arm around Elvira and maneuvered her through the window. Pete followed with the dog in his arms. "Here," she said, handing off the gun to the camp manager. "Keep an eye on O'Grady. He's over by the garage."

"Mrs. King, you'd better leave now."

"Not without my partner." Taking a deep breath, she took off after Lee, spotting him at the top of the stairs.

"Go back," he pleaded, pausing only long enough to warn her away. "I want you outside."

"I want you outside, too," she panted, racing up the burning staircase.

There was no time to argue. Lee grabbed Amanda's hand and pulled her behind him at a frantic pace. Flames licked at their heels as they rounded the turn on the second floor and raced up the narrow stairwell to the tower.

Reaching the third floor landing, Lee checked the door knob. "It's locked," he said, banging hard against the barrier.

"Now what?"

"Stand back," he warned. "I'll have to break it down."

Without thinking, Amanda braced her hands against his back and lunged forward with him.

"Oomph." The lock gave as his shoulder slammed against the door. They both tumbled into the room, landing with a loud thud on the floor.

Lee's muffled voice called from beneath her body. "Quick - close the door."

Amanda rolled off of him and kicked the door with her foot. Grabbing the throw rug, she jammed it along the crack at the bottom, cutting off the smoke.

Lee scrambled to his feet and pulled her up next to him. "Where are the kids?"

For a second, there was no sign of anyone, but then a sob filled the tiny space. "Mrs. King," a small voice cried. Instantly the two children ran from the corner and threw themselves in waiting arms.

Colleen sobbed against Amanda as Sean buried his face in Lee's chest. "You came," the boy said in awe. "I knew you'd save us."

"It's okay, pal." Lee rubbed his hand over the boy's skinny back. "Let's figure out a way down." Going to the window, he gave a yank and flung it wide open. "Okay, everyone out."

"Lee," Amanda gasped. "We're three stories up."

"There's no other choice." Helping each one onto the roof, he followed them out and shut the window.

For a moment they were immobilized - four desperate people clinging to the wrought iron railing. With the inferno blazing beneath them and the ground thirty feet away, they were trapped.

Lee began to pace the widow's walk, searching in vain for a way down.

Amanda hugged the children, holding out for a miracle. "There has to be way out of this," she said to Lee as he returned to her side.

He placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "We're about out of time. The flames have entered the tower."

"I know," she whispered, "but we can't give up."

"Here comes Pete," he said, motioning toward the ground. "Maybe I can drop the kids to him."

"Lee, it's just too far."

"Maybe not." Lee pointed toward the waterfront. A roar from the bay announced the arrival of a motor boat as it slammed onto the shoreline. Francine and Chuck jumped to the sand and raced toward the house.

Amanda and Lee frantically waved their arms. "Over here," they yelled.

Chuck didn't hesitate. He grabbed Pete's arm and hauled him toward the front porch. Then climbing on his shoulders, he hoisted himself to the lower roof.

Lee clamored for position. Throwing his legs over the railing, he cautiously balanced himself on the slanted roof. The rubber soles of his sneakers tenuously gripped the shingles as he moved slowly toward the edge. Beckoning to Sean, he urged the boy to step out in faith.

Amanda leaned far over the rail, holding the child's arm. Timidly, he inched toward Lee.

Two long arms reached out and grabbed him around the waist. "I've got you, son."

Sean nodded, his face filled with trust.

Amanda knew the look. How many times had Lee's eyes told her to trust him. Somehow he'd calmed the boy with the same message.

Lee maneuvered them as close to the edge as possible. Bracing his torso against a roof gable, he grasped Sean's wrists and lowered him toward Chuck's outstretched hands.

"Okay, drop him," Chuck yelled. The muscular lifeguard widened his stance and held out his powerful arms.

Lee released his grip on the dangling child, and Sean dropped straight down, his arms flailing against the night.

The boy hit with such force, he knocked the lifeguard to his knees. Nevertheless, Chuck's bulky arms caught the human projectile, before he slammed into the roof. "Here, take him," Chuck called to his colleagues. Quickly, he swung Sean over the side, his cries of terror echoing in the night. Together, Pete and Francine eased him to the ground.

"Next," Lee yelled, crawling back toward the peak. "Hurry, the roof is heating up fast."

"Come on, Colleen. You can do this." Amanda tried to prod the girl forward, but she refused to budge. Then, without warning, her body went limp. It took all of Amanda's strength to hold her upright. "Lee, she's fainted."

He scrambled to the railing and slung Colleen over his shoulder. Cautiously, he slid back to the safety of the gable. Then, cradling the girl, he gently secured her wrists and swung her over the edge.

Chuck waved his arms. "Let her go." The child plunged through space, landing securely in the lifeguard's waiting arms. Immediately he transferred the lithe body to Pete and Francine.

"Two down, two to go." Now the fire loomed ever brighter at their backs. "Come on," Lee called, motioning Amanda forward. "It's now or never."

"Oh, my gosh," she murmured, her heart in her throat. "Here I come." Letting go of the railing, she inched her way down, crouching low and gauging each step on the slick roof. She could see Lee's out-stretched arms waiting for her descent.

"Take it easy, Amanda. You're doing fine." Over and over, he repeated the words like a mantra, all the while keeping a wary eye on the fire.

Then, without warning, her foot slipped on the shingles and down she went, sliding toward the edge of disaster.

Lee didn't hesitate. Lunging from his perch, he latched an arm around her waist, stopping the momentum in the nick of time. There was utter terror in his eyes as he gathered her to his chest. "Oh, baby, that was a close one."

"Lee," she whimpered, shaking in her arms. "I nearly killed us both."

"Ssssh, just trust me, one more time, Amanda."

"Of course, I'll trust you." Her fingers tightened their grip on the front of his shirt. "But, Lee, how will you get down?"

"Don't worry about me." He gave her an encouraging smile and grasped both her hands. "Here we go."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Over she went, falling into nothingness, still tethered in mid-air to Lee's strong hands. But not for long. As her body twisted and turned, she felt her fingers sliding through his grasp.

"Leeeee," she screamed as one hand slipped free. For an endless moment, she swung back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

Daring to look up, she could see Lee's face illumined by the encroaching fire. His features were etched in pain and concentration as he valiantly fought to secure his hold. Bracing his right hand against the roof gable, he somehow kept them both from plunging through space in a freefall.

Below them, Chuck moved from side to side in a macabre dance, trying to gauge the bulls-eye for her fall.

Finally her body stopped it's erratic sway."Let her go," Chuck called, steeling himself into position.

Lee released his hold, and Amanda felt her heart lurch. Down she went, the force of her fall slamming Chuck against the roof.

Stunned, no one moved. Slowly, Chuck shoved her to the side and crawled out from under her dead weight. In one fluid motion, he grabbed her hands and eased her off the porch.

Francine and Pete latched onto her legs and quickly pulled her to safety. With the ground beneath her feet, Amanda barely took notice of her own condition. Her only thought was of Lee, still stranded on the upper roof.

He waved them away from the burning house. "Go," he hollered, the flames fanning his back with a blistering heat that could be felt all the way to the ground.

In one wild leap, Chuck jumped from the roof as smoke and flames ate through the asphalt shingles.

Motionless, Amanda stared desperately at her partner, a silent prayer upon her lips. Like a mythical god, Lee's statuesque frame glowed against the backdrop of fire. He was out of time, and she was helpless to save him. In the blink of an eye, he may be gone from her forever.

Tears clouded her eyes. How could it end like this? There were so many things left unsaid, so many missed opportunities, and so many feelings unexplored.

"Get back," he called again, frantically waving her away until Chuck grabbed her arm and pulled her backward. Then, with an economy of movement, he lowered his body to the roof and slid over the edge, dangling from the rain gutter by the tips of his fingers.

Unable to bear his weight, the fragile structure tore loose from its mountings. Forced to let go, Lee dropped like a rock, his legs buckling as he landed with a damning thud on the burning lower roof. It was only a glancing blow before the momentum sent him rolling toward the edge. With his arms shielding his head, he tumbled over the side, disappearing into the tall hedge of Emerald Green Arborvitae.

"Lee," Amanda cried, praying for God's mercy as she ran toward her fallen partner.

She got to him first, with the others on her heels. Frantically they worked to free him from the tangled branches. Sparks from burning shingles rained down from above, and the smoldering Arborvitae scorched the air around them. Speed trumped caution - there wasn't a moment to spare.

"Pull," Chuck hollered, and they all yanked in a single show of force, just before the shrubs burst into flames.

An agonizing scream punctured the night as Lee was snatched from the greedy jaws of death.

* * *

><p>To be continued - Conclusion and Tag are next.<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Conclusion and Tag

The squeak of rubber soles on linoleum slowly registered in his foggy brain. Someone was scurrying around him, just outside his line of sight. Hearing the click of a switch, he quickly closed his eyes against the sudden glare of fluorescent lights. Capable hands spread a blanket over his long form. "Amanda?" The word barely made it passed his constricted throat as he dared to take a peek.

A plump, smiling woman came into view. "Well, hello. Look who's awake."

"Who are you?" he rasped, realizing he was in yet another hospital.

"I'm Nurse Seymour. I assume you're asking for your wife. She's waiting in the corridor."

"My wife?" Lee said, shaking his head in confusion. He felt like Rip Van Winkle waking from a twenty year sleep. Then it dawned on him - someone needed a cover to access his room. He'd better play along. "Oh, good, my wife is here."

"I'll tell Mrs. Stetson you're conscious and get Dr. Evans in here to check on your progress."

"Thanks." He settled back to wait and assess his injuries. If pain was an indicator, he'd really done a number on himself this time.

"Hi," a soft voice called from the doorway. "May I come in?"

"Only if you're my wife or my doctor." He grinned at his blushing visitor, thankful beyond words, that it was Amanda. "I assume you're my devoted spouse tonight."

"Sorry. The staff made an assumption, so I played along. Billy hasn't arrived yet to vouch for my rights."

"Hey, it works for me." He beckoned for Amanda to come closer, reaching for her hand as she made it to the bedside. "Are you, okay? That was a pretty serious fall you took when I dropped you off the roof." His eyes scanned her slender frame, taking in every dear familiar detail. Somehow, she'd managed to clean up and change into some baggy scrubs. "You look great."

"I'm fine - just worried about you." Amanda stepped from his grasp to pour him a glass of water. Then holding the straw to his lips, she finally met his gaze. "Here you go; just take a small sip."

"Thanks," he said, conscious of her delicate fingers that gently swiped across his lips. Leave it to his doting partner to anticipate his every need.

Amanda reached behind him to straighten his pillow, reciting a running litany of praise as she worked. "Gosh, Lee, you really are some kind of superhero. It's no small feat that you were able to save all of us."

"I didn't do it alone." He patted the bedding, trying to entice her to sit down. "I'm glad I had my partner by my side on this one. You deserve a lot of credit."

"And we can credit the weather, too," she said, ignoring the proffered seat and his sincere compliment. The storm really was a godsend. I think the wetness offered us some protection against the fire."

"Well, yes it did . . . ."

The whoosh of the door intruded upon their conversation.

An older gentleman hurried into the room, with bifocals perched low on his nose and a wrinkled white coat flapping against his trousers. "Mr. Stetson, we're so glad you're awake. I'm Dr. Evans. I'll be coordinating your care in consultation with the NEST doctors."

"Doc, I don't need to be here. Nothing's broken, right?"

"From what I've heard, you're lucky to be alive. True, there're no broken bones or internal bleeding, but you do have a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and some first and second degree burns on your hands and arms. I don't think you'll be going anywhere for a few days." The doctor's stern look dared him to argue the point.

Lee blew out an exasperated breath. Apparently Amanda had alerted the medical staff about his aversion to hospitals. "Sorry, Doc, but I can't let a few bumps and burns keep me down."

"Sweetheart," Amanda said, in her best no nonsense tone, "sliding off a burning roof is more than a nasty fall. You're staying put until your body has a chance to heal."

The doctor peered over the rim of his glasses. "Thank you, Mrs. Stetson. I'm glad we're on the same team. Now why don't you give your husband a kiss and allow me some time to check him over."

Lee raised his eyebrows in expectation, anxious to see how far the phony Mrs. Stetson would take her charade.

Amanda didn't hesitate. "Rest easy, sweetheart," she said, playing her role to perfection. Leaning over the bedrail, she puckered up and landed a kiss squarely on his mouth.

"Mmmm," he moaned, startled by her boldness and warmed by the caress of her sweet lips. Willingly he accepted the gift and returned the kiss with an intensity that surprised even him.

Too soon, Amanda drew back, her expression full of questions he couldn't begin to answer. Then swiping at her errant tear, she bent over him once more. Tenderly, she pressed the side of her face to his cheek and exhaled a soft breath that tickled his ear. He closed his eyes to the pure bliss of her nearness.

A cough from the doctor ended their brief interlude. "All right, you two."

"Lee," Amanda whispered, her lips brushing his one last time, "behave yourself."

He hid his emotions behind the confident Scarecrow facade and offered a casual wink. "Don't go far, honey."

"No," she said, taking a step backward. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"You wouldn't dream of what?" Francine preceded Billy into the room. Taking note of the flustered Mrs. King, her eyes widened in expectation.

Amanda 's face turned red with embarrassment. "I wouldn't dream of staying," she replied. "The doctor needs to examine Lee."

"Excuse us doctor, we'll need a moment with Stetson." Billy flashed his Agency I.D. "Then you can hog-tie your patient and keep him under wraps for a week if need be."

"Billy," Lee protested. "I'm fine."

"He's doing better than expected," Dr. Evans added, "especially since Mrs. Stetson cheered him up."

Francine's mouth flew open at the jaw-dropping news. "Oh, so it's Mrs. Stetson, is it?"

The doctor smiled at Amanda as he crossed the room and paused in the doorway. "A little TLC from his wife has perked him up considerably."

"Yes, I'm sure it has," Billy said, with a twinkle in his eye.

Amanda hung her head, not looking up until the doctor was out of earshot. "The nurses thought I was his wife. I didn't have a chance to correct them."

"Yeah, I just bet." Francine quirked an eyebrow at Lee, and he promptly looked away.

"It was smart thinking, Amanda," Melrose said, nodding knowingly. Then turning his attention to the patient, he beamed. "Good job, Scarecrow. You saved a lot of lives tonight - you, too, Mrs. King. I'm proud of both of you."

"Thanks." Lee sought Amanda's eyes, affirming the compliment with a grin. "So, did anyone figure out how Paddy got back into the country? He'd just left."

"Or, so he would have us believe." Melrose rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, obviously worn out by yet another trip to the Chesapeake Bay area. "Apparently our terrorist pulled a bait and switch. Paddy never left the states. Instead he recruited his twin brother to leave in his place. Danny Thornton was the one that flew to Ireland."

"It looks like Brandi's claim about Danny's innocence was dead wrong." Lee shot his partner a sheepish look. "I should have trusted Amanda's instincts from the start. She suspected Brandi was hiding something."

"Yes," Melrose said, "Amanda's mistrust of Brandi was well placed. Miss Litchfield withheld vital information about another brother. However, in this case, Danny Thornton seems to be innocent of any crime. He was blackmailed into posing as Paddy. An IRA member held his wife and daughter at gunpoint and threatened to kill them if Danny refused to cooperate."

"Unfortunately, Brandi's silence brought the camp to the brink of disaster." Lee wearily sagged against his pillow. The emotional and physical strain of the week was finally taking its toll.

Amanda placed her hand on his shoulder. "I think our patient needs some rest."

"Yes, we'd best be going." Melrose looked at his watch and yawned. "We have O'Grady in custody, and we're taking Miss Litchfield back to the Agency for more questioning. I'm afraid her poor choices have cost her the role of camp director."

"I suppose this means the camp will have to end early." Amanda sighed with obvious disappointment.

A dark hand came to rest on her arm. "No, but it does mean the peace committee will be sending a new director. I believe it will be one of Arlington's finest principals. They've had her waiting in the wings, just in case."

"Mrs. Dennison?"

"That's the one."

"She's going to need an experienced assistant," Lee said, perking up a little. "There's a nurse on duty at Camp Harmony. I bet Katie Kramer would take excellent care of me in the infirmary."

Melrose shook his head in surprise. "I thought you hated camp."

"It must be the concussion talking," Francine added. "He's worse off then we thought."

"Billy come on. I can adapt to anything - including camp."

"We'll see, Scarecrow. It's up to the doctor." Billy looked at his watch. "In fact, I'll turn you over to Dr. Evans now. Desmond and I will wrap things up at camp and be back to check on you in the morning."

"Goodbye, sir. Goodbye, Francine." Amanda waved and closed the door behind them. Then turning back toward Lee, she clasped her hands together. "Well, ah, I'd better step out, too. I'm going to wait for the doctor to examine you and give me an update. Then I'll head back to camp."

"Amanda, come here, please." Lee wagged a finger, beckoning for her to move closer. "There's something I've wanted to say to you for the last couple of days."

"Oh?" She took a seat on the edge of the bed and began straightening his covers.

He studied her carefully as she fussed over him. "You know, there have been some awkward moments during our case, and I'm afraid I've sent you some wrong signals."

"Lee, it's all right. Really you don't need to explain anything."

"Yes, I do."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I hope, by now, you realize you're very important to me."

"Well, yes, you're important to me, too." She glanced down at her hands that fidgeted in her lap.

He grasped her chin, waiting for her brown eyes to meet his gaze. "Listen, calling me at home, no matter how late, was the right thing to do. I really let you down, and I promise you, it will never happen again."

"No," she said, shaking her head in protest. "You don't need to promise me anything. Lee, you have a right to some privacy without me intruding."

"It's never an intrusion to hear from you, Amanda."

"Thank you," she said, offering a warm smile to return the favor.

He laid his head back against the pillow, weighing the merits of getting another matter off his chest. "Amanda, when you walked by the other night and saw me embracing Brandi, it was all an act. I was dancing around her, trying to gain information."

"I know that, Lee. It was part of your cover, right?"

"Exactly," he said, reaching for her hand.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Lee, there's something I want to confess to you."

"Really?" He flinched, not ready to be on the receiving end of any revelations.

Reclaiming her hand, she nervously clutched the bedrail. "When I looked up and saw you all alone on the burning roof, I thought it was over for you . . . for us."

"Yeah," he said, his voice sounding husky. "I didn't expect to make it out of this one."

"Lee, I felt so helpless." Her hand reached out, delicately stroking the fine hairs on his forearm. "All I could think about were the opportunities we'd missed and the words we'd never spoken."

"Oh?" He cleared his throat, wondering if he should stop her now or let her proceed. He could guess where their conversation was going, and he definitely wasn't ready to go there.

She looked at him, her eyes dark with emotion. "I could never forgive myself," she whispered in a raspy voice, "if you'd died before I'd opened up to you."

"Amanda, it's okay," he said, his mouth tasting dry as sand. "We're both safe." He turned his head away, feeling like the cowardly lion in the Wizard of Oz.

She stiffened at his comment, but didn't back down. "No, it's not okay, Lee. One of us might be gone tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, and I don't want either one of us to be left with regrets or unanswered questions. Maybe I'm being silly, but I think it's worth acknowledging that we care about each other . . . ." She took a breath and added in a small voice, "we care deeply."

He nodded mutely, not knowing what to say. Hell, she could speed read his emotions faster than he could decipher them. Maybe he didn't need to say anything.

Anxiously, she rushed to fill the void. "I believe we share a very special bond . . . and I detect a certain sparkle when we're together . . . or maybe I should call it chemistry." She paused for a beat looking at him expectantly.

He merely sat there, fidgeting with a small hole in the flannel blanket, wondering how to dignify a response.

She sighed softly. "Apparently I'm the only one who sees it."

"No, you're not," he countered, finally finding his voice. "I do see it." Then he shrugged, watching her serious expression soften with relief. It was like the curtain was pulled back, and the great and powerful wizard was finally exposed.

But only for a brief glimpse. "Amanda, we have to stop," he said, yanking the curtain closed again. There was no way that he could allow blossoming feelings to complicate the hell out of their professional relationship. "Listen, I understand what you mean, but we can't go down that road. We're two very different people, tangled in the dangerous web of espionage. You know, damn well, our jobs take precedence over feelings."

Her small frame seemed to deflate before his eyes. "Of course," she said flatly, before lowering her gaze to the floor. "You've managed to drill the 'feelings' regulation into me for two years. For a chronic rule breaker, you certainly are a stickler when it comes to the Agency commandment - thou shall not become emotionally involved."

"And our lives may depend on it." He cringed at the defensiveness in his tone, but he wanted to be perfectly clear about where he stood. "There are some boundaries too risky to cross."

She drew herself up to her full height and held her head high. "Well, you're probably right," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "It's clearly important that one of us keep a tight rein on all things emotional. Isn't it lucky, for both of us, that you're so good at it."

"Believe me," he responded with a short laugh, "since I met you, it's been nearly impossible to hold a tight rein on anything."

"I'm just keeping you on your toes, Stetson," she said, her hurt feelings expertly hidden beneath a cheery facade. Leaning forward, she pressed a simple kiss to his forehead. "Get well, Scarecrow."

His eyes closed to the sweet sensation. He knew perfectly well that he'd once again pushed her away.

As she moved briskly toward the door, a final edict trailed after her. "We'll consider the subject officially dropped." And then, more to herself than to him, she added some parting words. "At least, for now."

"Amanda," he called to her retreating back, but she wouldn't turn around. Lee watched her go, mentally kicking himself for allowing old fears to hide his true feelings. He knew the truth; she was the best thing that ever happened to him. He could deny it into the next century, but nothing was going to prevent the inevitable. Slowly, but surely, he was falling in love with Amanda King.

And she must be falling in love, too. The latest trauma had exposed her emotions. Before he spoiled her revelation, Amanda's body language had spoken more eloquently than any polished speech or poet's sonnet. Her eyes had been trusting, her smile caressing, and her heart worn openly on her sleeve.

* * *

><p>On Tuesday morning, Lee was determined to break the shackles of the hospital and head back to camp. He was going nuts, sitting alone in a stark, sterile room, with nothing to do but play tug-of-war with is vacillating thoughts about Amanda.<p>

A knock on the door, gave him his first reprieve.

"Howdy," came the gruff voice of Pete Bailey. "Are you up for a short visit?"

"Hey, it's good to see you." Lee settled back on the bed, wincing as he tried to get comfortable. "Have a seat, Pete."

"No, thanks; I'm not staying long." He hooked his thumbs into the straps of his bib overalls, looking very much out of his element. "I want to thank you for saving my family. We'd all be dead if it weren't for you and Mrs. King."

"We're just glad you're okay." Lee coughed, feeling embarrassed by the accolades. "How are the kids doing?"

"Oh, fair to middling, I guess. We're all staying with Loretta for now. The children are sticking pretty close to her house." Then he hesitated for a beat. "Actually, the kids are out in the hall. They were wondering if they could poke their heads in and say howdy."

"Sure, why not? I'd really like to see them."

"I'll be right back." Pete hurried to the door and gave a shout.

Lee swallowed the lump in his throat, contemplating the cruel hand the kids had been dealt.

"Hi, Skip," Sean called in greeting.

"Hey, gang." Lee smiled as Pete ushered the duo into the room.

Colleen hung back, peering around the bulk of her uncle. Shyly, she held out a round container. "Aunt Loretta sent you cookies."

"And what else," Pete prodded. "What do you say to Skip for all he's done for you?"

"Thanks," the children cried, as they made a beeline to his side.

Lee gathered them in carefully. "You two were very brave. I'm proud of both of you."

Colleen's wide eyes focused on his wounds. "You're hurt," she whimpered. Hastily, she set the cookie tin on the bed.

"Hey," he said, offering them cookies. "I'll be up and around in no time at all."

"Okay, that's enough," Pete announced, beckoning to the children. "You two are wearing Skip out. Go on back to the waiting room, and I'll join you in just a bit."

"Bye, Skip," Sean said, with a reluctant wave of his hand.

Colleen sniffled before melting into his embrace once more. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss both of you." Lee watched them go, hoping they could enjoy some happiness in what remained of their turbulent childhood. Then turning to Pete, he asked his most pressing question. "So, what will happen to them when the summer ends? Will they return to Belfast?"

"No," Pete said, his voice brooking no doubt. "My sister is coming back to the states. She's wants to do what's best for the kids."

"What about her husband? Will he walk away from his political causes?"

"It's too late for that now. He made his choices years ago. It wasn't fair to put his family in danger."

"So, is your sister leaving him?"

"Yep, and it's for the best. She knows it, and her husband knows it, too."

"Yeah, I suppose he has to love them enough to let them go." Lee swallowed hard. The dose of harsh reality wasn't lost on him.

Pete fidgeted from one foot to the other, obviously ready to take his leave. "If there's anything at all we can ever do for you, just give a holler . . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Thanks, I really appreciate the offer."

"You bet." With typical Bailey stoicism, Pete squared his shoulders and made his retreat.

Lee waved goodbye, silently absorbing the cruel reminders of his own situation. While gapped tooth smiles and sweet freckled faces had charmed his life for a few glorious summer days, children were a luxury he could ill afford. Thankfully, he'd managed to save them this time, but he could just as easily endanger them if the situation was different.

The implications for his personal life seemed crystal clear. Whatever was happening between Lee Stetson and Amanda King was not limited to the two of them. She was a package deal, and the potential risks for her sons were mind boggling. There were valid reasons why his solitary life worked best for both of them. It was a cruel fate. He would have to continue to turn away, hide his feelings, and crush her spirit. "Amanda," he whispered wistfully, her name a mantra upon his lips. His thoughts taunted him with "what-ifs". What if they'd met at a different time in their lives? What if they'd met in a different place? What if they'd met under different circumstances?

And then, there was the biggest "what-if" of all. What if, some day they could follow their hearts and find a way to be together?"

* * *

><p>TAG<p>

"Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me." The voices of adults and children blended together in the moving Sy Miller and Jill Jackson song.

The words of the familiar peace song soothed Amanda like the soft caress of a summer breeze. She contemplated the lyrical message as she sat front and center in the amphitheater with her mother, the boys, and Bryce Topping. It was the opening number of the final campfire. Tomorrow everyone would go home.

After a week plagued with anxiety and horror, a gentle calm settled over the gathering, and the world seemed sane again. Thankfully the camp was ending on a high note. Rhythms of peace among the campers managed to triumph over acts of terrorism. Except for Sean and Colleen, none of the children knew the real cause of the catastrophic fire.

Regardless of the welcomed serenity, Amanda felt restless and incomplete. There had been no private moments with Lee since the night at the hospital, when he stomped all over her heartfelt sentiments. Somehow, he'd managed to be released to the care of Nurse Kramer in the camp's infirmary. Then with Katie keeping a watchful eye on his injuries, and a constant stream of visitors stopping by, Lee had been conveniently protected from time alone with his partner.

Even at night, he found ways to keep busy. Principal Dennison met with him daily to go over camp details, and later, when the camp settled down, Francine, Chuck and other lifeguards arrived to play poker.

Tonight, of all nights, she wanted to be with her best friend, but it was doubtful that he'd make the effort to come to the program. When she'd encouraged him to join the closing event, Lee reminded her that he hated endings.

With a brush of her hand, Amanda wiped a tear from her cheek. There were a lot of emotions that moved her this week, not the least of which were her love for Lee Stetson and her determination to push the confining limits of the status quo. Despite a lingering sting inflicted by his abrupt dismissal of her bedside confession, she'd made her peace with his behavior. Rehashing their conversation in her mind, she took comfort in Lee's fleeting flicker of interest, before he managed to slam the door shut on her revelation.

His actions shouldn't surprise her at all. She knew the Stetson avoidance pattern by heart. Obviously, Lee still wrestled with personal wounds from his past. He needed time, and she intended to give it to him. For now, she planned to keep the faith and continue to hope for a breakthrough. Sooner or later, yet another crisis would throw them into each other's arms. However, she didn't want to leave everything to chance. Maybe with a little handholding and subtle flirting, she could gradually weaken his resolve.

A nudge to her side brought her attention back to the program. "Darling, you're very quiet. Are you all right?" Dotty's face was etched with concern as she placed a hand on her daughter's arm.

"I'm fine, Mother - just a little frazzled. It's been quite a week." Thankfully the family matriarch knew nothing of her daughter's dare devil acts on the roof of the burning house. Details of a fire had been kept as vague as possible. A short explanation was sufficient - the Bailey house burned down, and Skip was hurt getting everyone out.

Bryce smiled at Amanda, offering a nod of support. He'd managed an about-face, apologizing profusely for his accusations and promising to safeguard her secrets.

"Well," he said, "as exciting as the camp has been, I'm ready to go home."

Dotty nodded in agreement. "My 'Simmons Beauty Rest' mattress is going to feel wonderful tomorrow night. You have to be a masochist to sleep on a camp cot. Honestly, it's more uncomfortable than a bed of nails. I can't wait to soak in a warm bath, nurse a glass of milk with a splash of Galliano, and settle into bed with a good book."

Amanda couldn't listen to the trivial chatter for another minute. "Mother, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to stretch my legs and check in with the staff one more time."

Heading up the fieldstone steps, she made a beeline for the back of the amphitheater. Reaching the top, she saw the object of her affection. Dressed in a blue denim shirt and his favorite jeans, he looked fit and relaxed. Since Lee was busy talking with Francine, Chuck, and Nurse Kramer, Amanda decided not to intrude. Taking the lone available bench at the far end of the amphitheater, she tried to focus on the program. A touch of nostalgia settled over her as the children's chorus walked onto the stage and began to sing.

She recognized the music immediately. It was her favorite Bob Dylan song -"Blowin' In the Wind." The words greeted her like a long lost friend. Maybe her personal desires were still 'blowin' in the wind," but the music challenged her to stick to her worthy goals for peace in the world, peace in her home, and peace in her heart.

Closing her eyes, she allowed the sweet voices of the children and the words of the cherished folk ballad to wash over her flagging spirit. The song had been a big part of her youth at a time when the nation struggled through the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War. With its message of peace and freedom, the anthem still resonated twenty years later.

She sensed movement beside her and felt the aura of the Stetson presence before she saw him. "Hi," she said, opening her eyes.

"Hey." Lee settled his tall frame on the bench. "The song brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Amanda nodded in agreement. "It seems like only yesterday that it was sung at peace rallies, freedom marches, college sit-ins, and Sunday services. I hope the children grasp the enormity of its message."

"Yeah." Lee gave her a little nudge with his elbow. "Peace songs and sling shots - the Amanda King arsenal for facing down threats to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

"I'll always prefer the peace songs. And non-violent resistance, too."

"Humph. No one knows that better than me. You're the Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. of the intelligence community."

"Well, Gandhi once said, 'an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,' and Dr. King reminded us that 'violence begets violence'."

"Yes, but sometimes a show of force is necessary. We can't always turn the other cheek when bullets and bombs fall in our path."

"I know that, Lee. Despite my preference for diplomacy, I don't see the world through rose colored glasses. Real life can be very dangerous, and I'm glad you tough guys are around to hold the terrorists and enemy agents at bay."

"It's sad but true, Amanda; in our risky business, weapons become a necessary evil. Maybe you need to give some more thought to letting Leatherneck train you on the gun range. If you want, I'll help you, too. It would give me peace of mind in the field."

"And I'll have no peace of mind," she said, feeling ambivalent about the offer. On the one hand, she despised the idea of learning to shoot, carrying a gun, and maybe having to take a life. On the other hand, she knew, on many occasions, she was ill-equipped to protect her partner. Besides, maybe the shooting range could be an education in itself, especially if she opted for private lessons. Perhaps having Lee's arms around her, teaching her how to aim, would do wonders for her self-confidence. Maybe a little hands on instruction would be the right opportunity to breach Lee's protective shield.

"Hey," he said, elbowing her arm. "Where'd you go?"

"Just thinking," she said with a sheepish smile. "I'm glad we got through peace camp without you having to shoot anyone."

"True, but I nearly got shot and stabbed. You're not always going to have a slingshot handy to slow down the enemy."

"Yes, it's my worst fear. I'll never forgive myself if I fail to cover your back in a critical moment."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself." He reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. "You've saved my hide dozens of times with sheer ingenuity. You've foiled the bad guys with a bag of sugar, a garden hose, a flash of a camera, and a living room lamp."

"Don't forget the trusty 'Go Bombers' booster button I handed you to disarm a missile."

He gripped her arm and laughed. "Yes, and your ability to drive a motor home came in handy, too."

She looked at him for a beat, contemplating their vastly different outlooks on life and their dissimilar lifestyles. He must think she was a Mother Theresa to his James Bond. Could they ever bridge the gap? "We don't have much in common, do we?"

"Oh, I don't know." He smiled a wide dimpled grin. "I've discovered I like children. Thanks for sharing your boys this week."

"You're welcome," she said, pleased that he'd admit his affection for kids. "I think you were the favorite among the children. You certainly knew how to charm them - especially the little girls."

"Yeah, they're really sweet. I guess this week was the next best thing to fatherhood."

"Oh?" Amanda nearly fell off the bench. Maybe the man beside her was the new, improved Lee Stetson. "You'd make a terrific father."

"It'll never happen. Besides, I was playing a role. Skip Stanton might be able to handle children, but Lee Stetson would be terrified." He shrugged and looked away. "A guy like me has no business trying to settle down and raise a family. I'm already married to my work, and I've sold my soul to espionage. It's different for you. As civilian auxiliary, you can usually put your family ahead of your job."

"Well, other agents marry. Don't close the door to the possibility." She shook her head at her boldness. What was she saying, anyway? Here I am, take me. She must be as transparent as cellophane.

Lee cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed by the conversation. "Yeah, well, who knows, huh?" He inched away from her as he reclaimed his hand and turned his eyes toward the stage. "I hope the closing program is almost over. I have better things to do than sit here like a bump on a log."

Amanda ignored his comment, focusing her attention on the campers who were handing out paper and pencils to the audience. She knew exactly what was coming and who wouldn't like it.

"What's this - a test?" He frowned as the paper came his way. "I clutch on tests."

"Shush, let's listen."

"It's time to write our peace pacts," Principal Dennison said, as way of explanation. "Each of us should make a promise. You may want to promise to make a fresh start with someone. Or maybe you can promise to get along, to be more loving, or to trust someone. Just write the name of a person on the slip of paper and include a word or two of your promise. You may write words like friend, kindness, love, forgiveness, hope, or trust. Don't worry about spelling. Whatever is written down is for you alone to see. When you're ready, walk forward and drop your note in the campfire. As the papers burn, the smoke will carry the embers of your peace messages over the water. Then the wind will carry your promises around the world."

"Oh, brother," Lee whispered, crumbling his paper in his fist. "This is stupid."

"Lee, the children are watching what we do." She pried the paper from his hand and smoothed it out. "Here, write something."

Then Amanda turned away from him to compose her own message. "Lee," she wrote. "You're worth the wait."

"Let me see what you've got," he said, leaning over her shoulder. "I don't know what to write."

"Oh no, Buster. It's for me alone." She quickly folded her paper - once, twice, three times. Then standing, she moved into the stream of children and counselors as they inched toward the campfire.

Lee was still writing when he got in line behind her. "Hmmm," he teased, whispering in her ear. "I wonder which enemy wants to be my friend: Hans Retzig? Gordon Reading? Or better yet, how about the Mongoose?"

"Oh, give it here," she hissed, grabbing the note from his hand. Before he could reclaim it, she caught a quick glimpse. It simply read, "Amanda - maybe some day."

He snatched it back, clearly annoyed at her shenanigans. "I hope you're satisfied?"

She offered him a sly smile. To herself she mumbled, "Good move, Scarecrow."

With the crowd pressing around them, they moved toward their destination in silence. One by one, each camper and leader walked by the campfire and deposited a message of peace. Then returning to their seats, everyone watched the sparks rise in the sky and float over the water.

Amanda felt Lee slide in next to her on the bench and wrap his arm around her waist. When she dared to look at him, he offered a soft smile and a daring wink. A silent message was given and received: Emotions were visible, trust was shared, a bond was forged. Words were unnecessary. The look in his eyes said it all; their journey would continue, and the best was yet to come.

The End


End file.
